Black Widow VI: Cold Blood, Burning Heart
by Triptych
Summary: On the eve of the Jihad, a team of delegates that holds the key to reuniting the fracturing Star League gets waylaid on a remote planet by an elite WOB unit. Can Nasty overcome her grief and change the destiny of mankind? COMPLETE!
1. Disclaimer and Dramatis Personae

Dedicated to all fans of BattleTech (and its myriad incarnations): past, present and future.

This is a fanfiction work based on Classic Battletech. Classic Battletech is the property of Wizkids LLC. All rights reserved. The character of Sudden Smith is based on the following classic computer games (which I still remember with great awe and affection): Starfleet Orion (The first micro-computer wargame ever!), Invasion Orion and Rescue at Rigel, all by Jon Freeman and Epyx Inc.

This is the sixth installment of the new Black Widow stories. Although each tale is designed to stand alone, they are all part of a larger plot and so I would suggest you read the entire series if you can. Please enjoy. All comments are welcome!

* * *

DRAMATIS PERSONAE

BLACK WIDOW COMPANY

Captain Natasha Kerensky- Clone of the original Black Widow

Major Dominic Durant- Liaison, SLDF Intelligence Command

Lieutenant James "Casanova Jimmy" Clavell- Son of John Clavell

The Monk- Lance Commander, Tarantulas

Lieutenant Lewis Sorenson- XO, Widow Command Lance

Stilicho Jones- MechWarrior, Wolf Spiders

Tara Ravin, Mechwarrior, Widow Command Lance

Johnny Gundam- MechWarrior, Wolf Spiders

Christopher MacLaren- MechWarrior, Wolf Spiders

Sudden Smith- MechWarrior, Tarantulas

Pale Rider- MechWarrior, Tarantulas

* * *

STAR LEAGUE (Conference Delegates)

Carlos Sanz- Official Liaison, Star League

John Palatine- Representative, Federated Suns

Baroness Mishai Singh- Vice Minister of Foreign Relations, Federated Suns

Mandrissa Monika Lee- Ministry of Trade and Exchange, Capellan Confederation

Count Seiji Oshiwara- _Okurasho_ (Ministry of Treasury), Draconis Combine

_Tai-i_ Chifune Kishikawa- Otomo bodyguard, Draconis Combine

Duke Rudiger Steiner- Chancellor of Finances, Lyran Alliance

* * *

WORD OF BLAKE

_Precentor_ Martial Cameron St. Jamais- CO, WOB Militia

_Precentor_ Brandon St. Jamais- CO, Heretic's Bane

_Adept_ XX Epsilon Amon Goth- XO, Heretic's Bane

_Adept_ XVIII Iota Jason Cornelius- Light of Mankind

_Adept_ XIX Pi Dragan Vosanovic- Light of Mankind

Bernard Reno- ROM Agent

_Adept_ III Zeta Achmed Faud- Light of Mankind

_Acolyte_ IX Iota Rogelio Chavez- Light of Mankind

_Precentor_ XXXI Omega Michel Gans- Former HPG Administrator, Gibson

* * *

SMYTHE-DAYAN EXPEDITION (Polyphemos' Eye)

Professor Adrian Smythe- Dean of Archaeology, Tharkad University

Doctor Mordecai Dayan- Head Archaeologist, Luthien University

Doctor Constance Smythe- Archaeologist

Richie Hoyt- Graduate Student

* * *

DROPSHIP/JUMPSHIP GROUP

Captain Markus Pym- JumpShip _Znutar_

Lieutenant Frank Carruthers- XO, _Znutar_

Captain Elijah "Ace" Rothstein- DropShip _Space Beagle_

Captain Janice De Llandes- DropShip _Amerigo_

Lieutenant John Shive- XO, _Amerigo_

Sergeant Edward "Eddie" Pryce- SLDF Military Police

Eladio Rodriguez- Crewman, _Space Beagle_

Chief Moses Malone- Engineer, _Amerigo_

Jessica Bradshaw- Stewardess, _Amerigo_

Karen Udeze- Stewardess, _Amerigo_

* * *

CAPELLAN CONFEDERATION

Chancellor Sun-Tzu Liao- Supreme Leader, CC

Duchess Kali Liao- Lady of Highspire, sister of Sun-Tzu

_Sang-wei_ Chang Pao- Death Commando

_Sao-shao_ Peter Coetzee- Case Officer, _Maskirovka_

* * *

CAUTION: Due to mature themes and subject matter, this work is recommended for adult readers only.

Special Thanks to Konan, NukeLoader and TNG for their technical assistance on Wobbie organization!

Amon Goth's philosophical ramblings about the craft of war is taken from the novel _Blood Meridian_, by Cormac McCarthy.


	2. Prologue: Babylon

**Black Widow: Cold Blood, Burning Heart**

**By Triptych**

**

* * *

**

_The beginning of all war may be discerned not only by the first act of hostility, _

_but by the counsels and preparations foregoing.  
_

-John Milton, _Eikonoklastes_

_

* * *

_

_…they have seduced my people saying,_

_Peace; and there was no peace:…_

-Ezekiel 13:10-11

* * *

_We have made a desert, _

_and called it peace._

-Tacitus, On the Roman occupation of Carthage

* * *

_By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down,_

_yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion._

_We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof._

_For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song;_

_and they that wasted us required of us mirth, saying,_

_Sing us one of the songs of Zion._

_How shall we sing the Lord's song in a strange land?_

_If I forget thee, O Jerusalem,_

_let my right hand forget her cunning._

_If I do not remember thee,_

_let my tongue cleave to the roof of my mouth;_

_if I prefer not Jerusalem above my chief joy._

-Psalms 137:1-6

PROLOGUE:

The Fall of Babylon

In the flat, arid valley between the banks of the Tigris and Euphrates Rivers there once existed a mighty city called Babylon. Of all the cities of antiquity, it is the one place that conjures up images of wealth, majesty and splendor. Historians, archeologists and anthropologists have often wondered about the marvel of this, the first great city of mankind. For it was here, in a desolate, wind-swept land, a place where plants could barely grow, that man's first civilization began. There were no fertile glades, no abundant rainfall that could produce crops to feed tens of thousands of people. The site of the first city of mankind had nothing, yet it had ultimately prospered, as its achievements became the stuff of myths and legend. For the riches of Babylon were all man-made.

It had no natural resources, yet of all the places in which mankind was to have their beginnings, it was in Babylon that it all started from. With what was once known as the greatest engineering project of the ancient world, engineers diverted the life-giving waters from the Euphrates by means of dams and immense irrigation canals so that farmers could plant crops upon the once arid soil. With the surplus of abundant food, specialists among the people began to develop. From farmers and animal herders came weavers, potters, merchants, soldiers, priests and kings. The city of Babylon was organized like that of any modern metropolis. Streets and shops lined the massive defensive walls while its citizens thronged along dusty streets to buy and sell their wares. Great inner palaces that housed the nobility and kings along with massive temples were the center of daily life.

The first city gave mankind the concept of money, credit and writing. Although paper had yet to be invented, records of all sorts of daily activities were written on clay tablets, many of which survive to this day. Positive dates have been proved reaching back over 8000 years that the Sumerian civilization not only existed, but also thrived while the rest of the world still lived in caves. The inhabitants of Babylon had seemingly performed a miracle from nothing. All the gold, silver and jewels that belonged to the people of Babylon came neither from mining its lands nor from plunder, but from the hard work of its citizens.

And there was slavery as well. But it was of a different meaning than it was today. Many citizens volunteered to become slaves, either because of excessive debts or crime, so that they could ultimately buy their freedom through work. Slaves could earn money from work and were allowed to own property. Only the prisoners of war were treated harshly, for it was they who toiled to build Babylon's great walls, temples and palaces after their failed attempts to conquer it. Of special mention were the slaves from Zion called Jews; they ultimately absorbed much of the folklore of Babylon such as the Great Flood, the trials of Job and the Garden of Eden that they ultimately incorporated these myths as part of their own religious tradition, which in turn gave birth to the present day faiths of Judaism, Christianity and Islam.

Wars were a common occurrence, for many rival kings coveted the wealth of Babylon. Armies of the ancient world were not to be taken lightly. Records show that units such as 10,000 horsemen, 25,000 war chariots and 1200 regiments of foot soldiers with 1000 men in each were not unheard of. Sometimes it would take two to three years to gather and supply an army of that immense size before any hostilities even began. A host of kings tried to conquer Babylon, but their campaigns always ended in vain. For the first great city of man was protected by one of the ancient wonders of the world, the great walls of Babylon. The exact height of the great walls has been lost through time though ancient accounts estimated that they were between fifty to sixty feet high when first erected thousands of years ago, faced on the outer side with burnt brick and surrounded by a moat. Later modifications of the walls six hundred years before the time of Christ staggers the imagination; they were reputed to be one hundred and sixty feet high, with a total length of between nine and eleven miles. So wide was the top that a six-horse chariot could be driven on top of them.

Hostile armies never entered Babylon until 540 B.C. Even then the walls were not captured. The circumstance around the fall of Babylon is one of the strangest tales of antiquity. Advisors of Nabonidus, the last King of Babylon, persuaded him to marshal his armies and meet the Persian King Cyrus and his invading army away from the city and its seemingly impregnable walls. When Cyrus then defeated the Babylonian army, it fled away from the city. The great Persian conqueror then entered the city without ever testing its walls. Babylon was never the same again; its prestige and power broken, the city waxed and waned over the next few hundred years until its inhabitants ultimately abandoned it. The canals dried up as the waters flowed back into the Euphrates, the once mighty walls crumbled from lack of maintenance and its streets became covered with dust. The once great city of Babylon fell and now exists only in the pages of history.

If there is to be one lesson learnt from the fall of Babylon, it is that the true power of empires, kingdoms and nations lie not with their land's natural resources, nor would it lie with the strength of their armies and neither would it be through their technological achievements. The true power of civilizations lies within the spirit and perseverance of its people. When the citizens lose hope, everything ultimately goes to ruin.


	3. 1 Quisling

_Winter, 3067._

  "Did you come here to kill me?"

  "Come now, Brother Michel. I came as your friend."

  "That is not what I asked you." Despite his trembling hands, there was still a touch of defiance in his old, tired eyes as he poured himself another shot of arak. The noise from the dusty street below made a conversation of whispers difficult.

  "It is the answer to your question." Bernard Reno smiled. "How could I possibly kill an old friend of my father's?"

  Michel's eyes were downcast. "Because this old friend of yours has betrayed the cause, Brother Bernard."

  "Tell me about it."

  "Do you swear on Blake's heart that you did not come here to kill me?"

  "I do solemnly swear, Brother Michel." Reno said. "When one utters an oath and invokes our blessed founder's name, he is duty-bound to follow it until death."

  "And so it is." Michel Gans smiled meekly. "But one wonders if even ROM agents would abide by that oath."

  "You know we do. No exceptions. Now tell me, what became of the will?"

  "I had it formatted into a datadisk."

  "What became of the datadisk?"

  "I entrusted it to Mr. Davos, you remember him don't you?" Michel sighed. "The merchant who dabbles in antiquities. I entrusted the will to him so that he may find a way to have it published for the good of all humanity."

  "Yes I remember him, the one you introduced to me so many years ago, when I was but a lowly Acolyte in the order."

  "That is he. I'm glad you still remember that." Michel's smile grew larger. "You considered me your mentor back then. You were so young, so eager." He reminisced.

  "Then it must pain you to know that Davos was an informant for the _Maskirovka_." Reno said.

  "What? That is impossible!" Michel's grin turned to shock. "I have known him for decades. Longer than your own parents."

  "It was confirmed only several months ago. He was very good about his cover but ROM is ever vigilant and we ultimately found out about it. He confessed after we tore one of his eyes out."

  Michel covered his face with his hands. The bare walls of the little room seemed to hem him in more than ever now. "Oh blessed Blake, forgive me." He cried.

  "You have compromised our very existence by transporting the heresy to a foreign power that could very well discredit us." Reno's voice was cold, like a judge reading the last rights to the condemned. "The damage you have done is nearly irreparable."

  "B-but I did it for the noblest of reasons." Tears streamed down Michel's eyes. "Is it so wrong to wish for peace among mankind?"

  "It is our blessed order which will bring peace to mankind, you should have known that. As a former _Precentor_, your actions are inexcusable." Reno said. "If the task was entrusted to anyone but me, they would have killed you in the most painful way imaginable."

  "I realize that." Michel's voice was strained. "ROM has been very kind to me. They sent an old friend who has known me for many years to teach me the error of my ways. For that I am grateful."

  Reno smiled as he rested his hand on his former mentor's shoulder. "Fear not. I have given an oath not to kill you, and I won't." He said as he poured more arak onto his old friend's shot glass. The strong, pungent spirit was distilled from an age-old winery in Earth's Levantine region; with a scent of aniseed and licorice, it was a potent drink but one that the old man loved to quaff down with meals.

  "I would like to thank you for this gift." The old man pointed to the long necked, emerald-colored bottle of arak. "This was a favorite drink of mine and your father's as well."

  "You realize of course that we cannot let this sin go unpunished." Reno said as a matter of fact.

  "Yes. Go and render your judgment."

  "Permanent exile." Reno said. "You are to leave the Inner-Sphere forever and reside in the Deep Periphery for the rest of your natural life. No brother will speak to you nor will you be offered food and water in any of the worlds that we control. If you are seen consorting with the enemy then your throat will be cut and your carcass fed to the dogs. May Blake curse your soul upon your death."

  "By Blake's true words, I accept." Michel sighed as he quaffed another shot of the fiery liquid.

  As Reno turned and walked away, the old man was about to thank him but decided that a silent goodbye was more appropriate. He had nothing but good intentions but now it seemed that the world was turned upside down. He accepted his punishment and would live as a pariah for the rest of his days. A part of him thanked Blake's mercy for not letting him die a terrible death for the unpardonable crime he had committed.

  When Bernard Reno finally left the old man's room and walked down the dingy stairs to the dusty streets of the town, he took off the filters that he had inserted in his nostrils to protect him from the fumes of the arak. Earlier that day, he hired an old Turk to infuse the bottle of Michel's favorite drink with Datura. It would be a few hours before the old man noticed anything. By then the poison of the Datura would have seeped into his brain and if he were lucky, he would still be able to hold his bowels because people who were exposed to Datura suffered permanent brain damage and would need a wet nurse in order for them not to make a mess on the floor, at the very least.

  He had kept his oath to Blake. If only the traitor realized the true extent of his punishment, death would have been more forgiving.


	4. 2 Blue Movie

  When one tends to do things for the first time, there is always a hint of apprehension. Even when one is taught the techniques from a classroom setting, it seems quite different when one actually does it. Reading a book about it or being told by another just doesn't feel the same until you were actually living in it. It is the lack of experience and the sense of not knowing that makes someone nervous, especially in the matters of lovemaking. Virgins tend to be either timid or scared when they have their first sexual experience.

  Vivian seemed to be a mixture of both.

  Despite the explicit instructions of Lady Eva, Vivian was shaking uncontrollably and could not look the man in the eye, as she was instructed to do so. What made it worse was when the man asked her what her name was, she could not say a word, her voice seemed to have left her along with her clothes when they stripped her and bathed her with scented oils before the scheduled appointment just half an hour ago.

  She hoped that the man would not punish her for her shyness. Lady Eva's instructions were precise- fulfillment of his every desire.

  "Come closer." Said the man.

  Vivian inched her way until her bare feet touched the edge of the satin bed. The walls of the room were lined with full sized mirrors on all sides, giving it the effect of an infinitesimal glass labyrinth. Vivian's own reflections gazed back at her from all angles, with countless variations in each looking glass. The man was lying with his back down on the bed facing her, legs spread out as if he was ready to receive her quivering young body, like a Venus flytrap preparing to engulf its latest victim.

  "Now tell me, what is your name?" The man said again. He was youngish looking, with short, curly black hair. He looked like a _militate_ from a tri-vid movie on ancient Rome.

  "V-vivian" She stammered it out.

  "Vivian. What a lovely name. How old are you?"

  "Sixteen."

  "Sixteen. Ah, what a lovely age to have your first experience at love." The man said. "This is your first, is it not?"

  "Y-yes."

  The man laughed. "Good. This will be an experience you will remember."

  Vivian didn't answer. She looked down, unable to stare back at the cold, cold eyes.

  "Vivian, what were your instructions?" The man said as he began to rub himself.

  "To do anything that you desire, sir." She answered meekly.

  "Good. Take off your robe." He ordered.

  Vivian undid the simple knot from the silken cord on her waist. She could see the man began to play with himself as she loosened her silk robe and let it slide off, revealing the soft contours of her thin form. The robe was now a pile of cloth lying at the base of her ankles.

  "Excellent." The man said. "Now you must remain standing and don't move."

  Vivian stood as still as a statue. She was beginning to calm down. She thought that the man might grab her as soon as she took her robe off and perhaps savage her so horribly that she would be in pain for days but all he seemed to be doing was to lay on the bed while he aroused himself as he watched her. Was this all there is to it? Vivian fought back the urge to giggle. Her friends at Lady Eva's harem had told her many horror stories as to what they did with virgins but it all seemed like a joke to scare her now.

  As she stood there, contemplating if the man would finally have his release or whether if she would fall asleep first, Vivian instantly felt the touch of someone from behind. With a sudden realization that there was someone else in the room, the young concubine gasped.

  A soft, feminine voice eased her fears as hands continued to caress her naked, goose-bumped body. "Have no fear. You will enjoy this."

  Vivian dared not look behind her. The man's instructions were that she remain explicitly still. Instead, she used the mirrors along the walls to see who it was that was behind her. The young concubine could clearly see that it was another woman, naked like her, tanned, with deep-set oriental eyes. The other woman smiled as she continued to grope and touch her young body. Vivian's glances revealed that the other woman had razor-sharp teeth, artificially sharpened. Her erotic touches, however, smoothed the concubine's nervousness.

  "You are so soft and innocent, my young child." The other woman said softly as her sharp tongue slithered along Vivian's ear while her hands caressed all over. "So pure that you are good enough to eat."

  The man began to make inaudible sounds as he continued to stare at them. It was clear that he was getting close.

  The other woman's touches became more intimate that Vivian began to tremble as her body too, became aroused. She had never felt this way before. The older lady seemed to know exactly where her sweet spots where, each touch was an electrifying sensation that drove her teenage body to new heights of ecstasy. Vivian could not control herself as she gasped again, not in nervousness, but in pleasure.

  The touching and groping continued until both Vivian and the man were now past the plateau of arousal and into the realm of climax. As Vivian's moans began to match the man's, she felt something sharp prick her neck, and then something hot and sticky cascade down the front of her body. Within minutes, she felt a numbness all over and then nothing at all.

  The man finally climaxed as the crimson spray washed all over him.

  When the young girl finally lost consciousness and then slumped down at the foot of the bed, Kali Liao picked up the concubine's silk robe and began to clean her wavy-bladed dagger with it. It was important that she keep her beloved knife clean. After all, if the blade stayed sharp then the cut would be swift and the future victims would never put up a struggle.

  Now that he was done, the man got up from the soaked bed and walked over to one of the mirrors. He could see that the girl's blood had dried quickly, encrusting the hairs on his chest. His entire form seemed to have been transformed into a crimson sheen and he looked like he had taken a bath in red dye. As he stood there, admiring himself in the mirror, the other woman came up behind and wrapped her arms around him. The pungent, acidic smell of blood was everywhere.

  "Did you enjoy that, my dear Brandon?" Kali said as she wrapped her arms around him and picked at the dried blood on the hairs of his chest.

  "Ah, Kali." Brandon smiled as he turned around and hugged her. "You are a master at fulfilling any man's desire."

  Kali kissed him. "That's because you are a lot more fun than your brother ever was."

  "I hope," Brandon nibbled on her nose as he spoke. "That you will not tell my brother about this little tryst that we have every now and then?"

  "Not at all, my dear Brandon, not unless you anger me." Kali giggled like a little schoolgirl.

  Brandon swept her up in his arms as she laughed. He then walked back to lay her down at the edge of the bed but he nearly tripped over the concubine's still bleeding corpse. As Kali began to get on top of him, Brandon made a mental note to edit out that part of the video when he took back the camera from behind the mirror.

  Kali always preferred to be on top. Always.


	5. 3 The God of Knowledge

  Winter in Sian always brought more rain as the monsoon would arrive at its appointed season and provide an almost daily dose of thunderstorms. The caretakers of the Celestial Palace always disliked this time of the year due to the fact that there was more work to be done. The marble floors had to be constantly mopped, leaks plugged and the lacquered teak roofs repaired. The monsoon rains gave them all an additional burden in keeping the Chancellor's official residence as immaculate as possible.

  Although his ancestors would have never dreamed about residing in a humid, tropical climate such as this, Peter Coetzee always liked the rains. When the weather became too hot, a light drizzle would do wonders to one's spirit, as it would cool the blistering heat and drive away the persistent insects that would always seem to plague him. If the planet had a more temperate climate, then perhaps the rains would be treated as gloomy and cold rather than as a coolant for the incessant heat. Should a catastrophic event like climate change ever occur while he was still alive, Coetzee would have seriously thought about finding other work.

  A considerate parking attendant held an umbrella over his head as Coetzee got out of his car and held it above him, shielding the Case Officer from the pouring rain until he finally got underneath the grand entrance hall. After running his hand along his head to straighten his wet hair, Coetzee then smoothed down his uniform and pulled out his handkerchief to wipe the drops of water from his leather briefcase. The guards around the vestibule instantly walked over and checked his identification card. Even though he had been here many times, security was always tight.

  After checking his fingerprints and eye retina through a biometric scanner, he was instantly escorted by a black-clad man with a silver lapel on his collar in the shape of a skull towards the inner-courtyard. Coetzee knew that the man who was leading him was a Death Commando, a member of an elite unit of fanatical guards whose duty was to safeguard the Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation. Each Death Commando was a highly trained killer and Coetzee gave him a wide berth. Nevertheless, the thought of even harming the Chancellor never entered Coetzee's mind; he was in fact, a big admirer of their supreme leader.

  Coetzee had been going to and fro around the Celestial Palace for many years now and each time he visited, there seemed to be a definite improvement as to the quality and grandeur of the establishment. He could clearly see the effects of _Xin Sheng_, or New Birth, as the Chancellor called it. The Confederation was clearly on the rise after nearly being bled to death by its larger neighbors just less than forty years ago. Where once the Capellans were considered as the weakest among the Successor States, they had fought back and reclaimed many worlds that were taken from them by the Federated Suns during the Fourth Succession War. The Chancellor's recent alliance with the Magistracy of Canopus enabled them to also take back the St. Ives Republic, home of the traitorous Allard-Liaos. Even the Chancellor himself was elected First Lord of the Second Star League just a few years ago. Capella was clearly on the rise, its previous generations would have thought this apex of prestige to be unattainable, but with their great leader, everything now seemed possible.

  After several minutes of walking and passing by innumerable hallways inlaid with tapestries from long-lost Chinese dynasties, the Death Commando finally led him into an ornate dining hall that faced the lotus gardens of the inner-courtyard from an open wall. The pouring rains from the outside seemed to give the oak-paneled hall an extra sheen as Coetzee could notice lapis lazuli, jade and mother of pearl sculptures that lined the tops of shelves. It seemed like a museum of ivory and riches. Octagonal mirrors and Chinese symbols characterized the new, oriental focus of _Xin Sheng_. The huge teak dining table stretched for nearly ten meters and was spotlessly polished to a lacquered shine; it could have easily accommodated dozens of nobles and dignitaries but on this day, only one man sat at its head, enjoying breakfast.

  Carefully chewing a morsel of _dim sum_ stuffed with fragrant herbs and shrimp, Chancellor Sun-Tzu Liao turned his attention from the droplets of water sprinkling the edges of his beloved garden to the man standing several meters from him. After placing his hand-carved ivory chopsticks down on his plate, a young female body servant that stood by his side instantly took the napkin beside his plate and gently wiped his mouth before quickly returning back to her station. Sun-Tzu then took a cup of steaming green tea and sipped at it before finally leaning back on his chair and gesturing Coetzee to begin.

  "Good morning, Chancellor." Coetzee said. "I have some news from our Federated Suns operations bureau."

  Sun-Tzu smiled. "I am so glad that our state's secret service, the _Maskirovka_, is working so early in the morning."

  "We live to work for the good of the Confederation, Chancellor."

  "That you do. Now what is your report, Case Officer?"

  "Good news and bad news, Chancellor. In regards to Operation _Toth._"

  "Let's start with the good news." Sun-Tzu said. "Good news always brightens my day."

  "The datadisk containing Jerome Blake's last will and testament along with the secret recordings have been transferred to one of our agents in New Avalon who will be part of the Star League delegation to Tharkad."

  Sun-Tzu sat up from his chair. This was very, very good news. "Excellent, this may be the biggest intelligence coup that the _Maskirovka_ has ever come across. My congratulations to your department. When will the delegates begin transport to the Tharkad Conference?"

  "My thanks, Chancellor. This batch of delegates will be in fact, the last batch to leave for Tharkad. They should be leaving within the next few days. Because of the delays, we may expect them to be at the Lyran capital world just as the Star League conference is about to begin." Coetzee said.

  "Well, the timing will be close, but it should still suit our purpose." Sun-Tzu was beaming now. "This is very wonderful news. Now tell me the bad news." He said.

  Coetzee braced himself. "The bad news is that we have lost all of our assets in the Federated Suns, Chaos March and the Terra system which were attached to this mission."

  Sun-Tzu leaned back on his chair and grimaced. It was one of the most elaborate operations that the _Maskirovka_ ever devised since the retaking of the Sarna March. The best agents were diverted from other important operations just to ensure that this ploy would succeed. Their apparent success was a tribute to their skills and determination, but to lose them all meant that not only would _Maskirovka_ be hampered in that region, but also that the enemy may have been alerted. Oh well, the price was high but the goal was within reach, he felt.

  "ROM?" Sun-Tzu said. He was not referring to the intelligence arm of ComStar, but rather the bureau of the more radical Word of Blake. Both bore the same name. And both were very, very good.

  "We have no firm conclusions as of yet, Chancellor. But it may be a very distinct possibility." Coetzee said as a matter of fact.

  "Well, we knew the risks, after all." Sun-Tzu said. "Thank you, _Sao-shao_ Coetzee. You may return to your offices now."

  As Coetzee began to turn and leave, Sun-Tzu called out to him again. "Oh, by the way," The Chancellor said.

  Coetzee turned around and faced him again.

  "As I do understand," Sun-Tzu continued. "You are a highly dedicated intelligence officer, _Sao-shao_. You worked all night to make this report to me."

  Coetzee smiled. The Chancellor had many ears as well as eyes. "Yes, Chancellor. I try to serve the Capellan state to the best of my abilities." He answered.

  "Your ancestors were of Boer descent, were they not?"

  "Yes, Chancellor. From the Southern African continent of Terra."

  "Then you must know from your past history, that oppressed people the likes such as we, always strive to be better, do we not? Adversity is the great character builder." Sun-Tzu said.

  "You are absolutely right, Chancellor." Coetzee said. "The key to success for a people lie not in regards to defeat, but in the recovery from defeat."

  "I am glad that we see eye to eye. I am hereby placing you in charge with the rebuilding of our intelligence networks in the Sarna March as well as in the Federated Suns."

  "Many thanks, Chancellor." Coetzee was both shocked and pleased as he bowed in supplication. "I will not fail the Capellan people."

  "I know you won't. _Xin Sheng_, _Zhing-shao_ Coetzee." Sun-Tzu said.

  "_Xin Sheng_, Chancellor." Coetzee grinned as he turned and began to walk away.

  As the newly promoted _Maskirovka_ Case Officer walked out into another hallway, Sun-Tzu picked up his chopsticks and began to eat once again. Not even his thoroughly ambitious mother, Romano Liao, could have foreseen the changing fortunes of the Confederation. He had almost single-handedly reversed the disintegration of the Capellan state and had become First Lord of the Star League, if only for a short while. As Sun-Tzu plucked a pickle from a small bowl and began to munch on it, he remembered his term as that of the First Lord, once in control of the entire Inner-Sphere. How he longed to do that once more; he could achieve so much with the power at his fingertips. That was the reason why he declined to even attend the conference because he already had a knowing as to its conclusion. Unless something drastic was done, the entire Star League would dissolve at that very conference. The threat of the Clans had diminished, and the Successor States were preparing to jockey for power amongst each other once more. The Second Star League was surely doomed unless a radical new piece of information was produced that could somehow keep them united.

  Sun-Tzu grinned in spite of himself. His agents had the information that could reunite the Great Houses for good this time. And once he got credit for this revelation, they would have no choice but to reelect him First Lord once again, perhaps even permanently. The complete and absolute ascension of the Liao dynasty was about to become reality, and he did it through shrewd political maneuvering and guile, not conquest.

  The Chancellor's Death Commandos wondered why he was in such a happy mood this morning. Perhaps it was the food.


	6. 4 The Blessing

  It was once called the Eternal City and was the capital to one of man's greatest empires, virtually ruling the entire western world for over a thousand years. In time, it also became the seat of power to one of the world's most influential religions, creating an institution that had survived to its present day. Although its role in the 31st century was somewhat diminished, many from far-flung planets still looked to it as a source of inspiration and veneration in a galaxy gone mad with war and conflict.

  The time was midmorning, in between the services as the shafts of sunlight shone through the stone archways and illuminated the paintings of the Sistine Chapel. The effect was somewhat timeless as he walked alone amongst the relics of history.

  He was tall and well built. Although now entering his middle years, he still possessed what many military men would call Command Presence. His very occurrence would inspire the other, lesser members of the Order to achieve greater works for his very reputation bordered on the mythical. The tall man walked around the marble floors of the basilica, staring upwards and admiring the works of previous artists from antiquity. He had a fondness for these things for he could feel a kinship from the people that once existed in this part of the world so long ago. It was almost as if he could touch their very spirits and commune with them, talking about matters of faith and devotion to one's cause. How he wished that he could have done that.

  _Precentor Martial_ Cameron St. Jamais would often make these long walks when he was preoccupied with pressing matters. It was a form of therapeutic catharsis for him; contemplation of his problems and comparing it with similar issues from earlier epochs did much to calm the storms in his heart and renewed his faith in the cause. And since he loved the classical arts, it was a pleasure as well. Looking at the ornate paintings of a Renaissance master who labored to paint the entire ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, Cameron St. Jamais could not help but reflect on the parallels between the efforts of the master artist and the cause of the Word of Blake.

  When the first Star League had been destroyed between the war of Stefan Amaris the Usurper and the SLDF over two centuries ago, the Council Lords of the Great Houses decreed that a lowly technician named Jerome Blake be given the task of restoring the HPG communications system that had once been ravaged by war. The Hyper-Pulse Generator was a technological marvel, a communications system that could provide the relay for nearly instantaneous contact between far-flung worlds all across the Inner-Sphere. Within several years, Blake and his subordinates had created an organization called ComStar, an institution that pledged to not only operate the communications system but to also safeguard its technology from the destruction of war and the predations of other men. With one bold stroke, ComStar seized Terra and it became the cornerstone for its blessed order. Blake's successor, _Primus_ Conrad Toyama, then forged ComStar into a mystical Order based on the literal worship of technology and transformed the written works of Jerome Blake into godlike status. Within a few scant years, members of the Order began to pray to the very machines that they were maintaining.

  As the Clans then began to rampage across the Inner-Sphere, ComStar first colluded with these Star League exiles with the possibility of exploiting them for the Order's needs. But when the Order realized that the true goal of the Clans was to occupy Earth and set up an empire based on their own image, ComStar then challenged them to an all or nothing battle on a backwater farming planet called Tukayyid. The largest single battle of the Clan Invasion, Tukayyid was a bloodbath that hammered both sides as ComStar ultimately emerged victorious. The Clan invasion had been stopped but the acting _Primus_ at that time, Myndo Waterly, then staged an attempted takeover of the entire Inner-Sphere in order to bring ComStar to absolute preeminence. Waterly's plot failed and she was killed by her own _Precentor Martial_, Anastasius Focht.

  Focht then began something that ultimately caused a schism within the Blessed Order itself, he decreed that ComStar needed to get rid of all the mystical trappings and reestablish itself as a secular institution. This angered many of the more traditional loyalists within the Order and a splinter group called Word of Blake was created by this disaffected faction as a counter to Focht's reformations. The Blakists began by cementing an alliance with the Free Worlds League, allowing them to have secure bases with which to build up their forces without molestation. Both sides maintained an uneasy peace until Operation _Odysseus_, when elements of the WOB militia, disguised as mercenaries, invaded and successfully occupied Terra, the very seat of power for ComStar. With this resounding success against for what many in the order perceived as reformist traitors against the teachings of Conrad Toyama, many ComStar units defected over to the Blakists.

  With its growing influence in both the Periphery and the Chaos March, many governments now began to take the Word of Blake seriously. WOB militias were growing in strength as time passed as many new recruits began to eagerly flock to the banner of the one true Order. Cameron St. Jamais smiled as he remembered the eagerness of the new graduating class of _Adepts_ at the various military academies that had been revitalized all across Terra. The WOB military was now growing in leaps and bounds, soon they would be able to completely pulverize all of their enemies. Mercenary units were being hired at an astonishing rate and their ever-growing warship fleet was getting more and more powerful by the day. But what the rest of the Inner-Sphere did not know about was their hidden bases in the Deep Periphery, safe places in which to store their most powerful weapons, devices that had not been seen since the War against the Usurper. If any of their enemies knew what they were up against, they would be shuddering with the utmost dread.

  As the _Precentor Martial_ stood while absorbed in his thoughts, a younger man walked into the grand archway of the Sistine Chapel and made his way towards him. Cameron St. Jamais immediately recognized who it was and turned to face him as the younger man bowed in supplication. The Blakist _Precentor Martial_ then grinned as he hugged his brother.

  "It has been many months, brother." Cameron St. Jamais said. "What news do you have for me?"

  "Readiness reports for my unit." The younger man handed him a file. "We could use another few weeks to fully coordinate armor and 'Mechs into a more cohesive force plus the ARCLIGHT system needs more work but we are good to go, _Precentor Martia_l."

  "Then we need to commit now." Cameron St. Jamais said. "The last batch of delegates will be disembarking for Tharkad within the next few days. ROM reports all assets are in place."

  "That is wonderful news. I shall immediately place my unit on full alert and begin deployment."

  "Brandon," Cameron St. Jamais said. "I know that this will be your first combat mission as _Precentor_. Even though it would seem routine, you should nevertheless be careful. This is one of the most important missions ever for us."

  "My thanks." Brandon answered. "I will not fail our Blessed Order."

  "I know that." His older brother said. "I have every faith in you. Just before mother died, I made a pledge to her."

  "A pledge?" Brandon St. Jamais was but a child when their mother died so this was news to him. "What kind of pledge?" He asked.

  "I swore on her deathbed that I would take care of you." Cameron St. Jamais said. "You are my only surviving brother, you are family. If anything happens to you, I will become vengeance personified."

  "Nothing will happen to me." Brandon smiled. "This unit is the best I have ever seen."

  "One piece of advice, brother." Cameron St. Jamais said. "You are still inexperienced but I know you will learn quickly." He handed back the files to his younger brother. "Although you have many raw recruits, the core of your unit is composed of the Light of Mankind. Trust in your subordinates, they are highly experienced and will be of great help to you in your operational planning and command. Don't let your ego get the better of you."

  "That is sound advice, brother." Brandon said. The Light of Mankind was the nickname for the Blakist Special Forces. Culled from ROM and defectors of ComStar Special Forces, the Light of Mankind was a highly lethal, elite cadre of fanatical killers.

  "One more thing." Cameron St. Jamais touched his brother lightly on the shoulder as the younger man began to walk away.

  "What is it?" Brandon stopped and turned to face his older brother.

  The _Precentor Martial_ had a stern look on his face. "Explain your relationship with Duchess Kali Liao."

  "What?" Brandon was stunned. "What relationship?"

  "Do not lie to me, brother." Cameron St. Jamais said. "I was not born yesterday. Our order has eyes everywhere and as _Precentor Martial_, I have every right to know of such things, especially when it concerns my own brother. How long have you been seeing her?"

  "S-several years now. Since I met her at your birthday celebration." Brandon stammered as he explained. "I-I had no intention of having an affair with her. I know that you have been intimate before and I beg for Blake's forgiveness." He said as he looked down at the marble floor.

  "You are absolved, brother." Cameron St. Jamais patted his younger brother on the shoulder. "She is a free woman and she is entitled to make her choice."

  "My thanks." Brandon said. He was off the hook.

  "But be very careful about her." Cameron St. Jamais added. "She borders on lunacy every now and then."

  "Words of wisdom, _Precentor Martial_." Brandon breathed an inaudible sigh of relief. At least he didn't find out about the vidtapes.

  "Enough of that." Cameron St. Jamais had a knack for moving on once he had made his point. It was what endeared him to his men. "Remember your objectives: make sure that the datadisk is recovered and destroy any copies. No one must learn of the heresy."

  "The datadisk is as good as ours, _Precentor Martial_." Brandon vowed.

  "May blessed Blake watch over you in this most crucial undertaking." Cameron St. Jamais uttered a short prayer as his younger brother departed.


	7. 5 Dead Ringers

  The K-1 looked similar to that of a military DropShip and in some ways, it was used as such. But more often than not, it was used primarily to re-supply JumpShips that were drifting in the black void of space. The K-1's hull was spheroid and had a docking collar that could attach it to a JumpShip's hardpoint. Once it had successfully docked itself, much needed supplies could then be brought onboard.

  When the New Avalon Recharge Station Zenith was informed that the K-1 DropShuttle would make another supply run for the _Znutar_, they simply logged it in their computers and proceeded to go about the rest of their mundane tasks. After all, traffic was considerable and they had a lot more important things on their minds than to scrutinize one more supply run to a JumpShip that was scheduled to leave the next day for the Star League conference on Tharkad anyway. But if the crew at the Recharge Station had ordered their aerospace fighter wing to make a more detailed visual identification rather then just accepting the IFF-transponder code, they would have noticed that something was not what it seemed.

  First of all, the painted insignia of the Star League on this particular DropShuttle was freshly painted, just over several days ago. Secondly, the IFF-transponder beacon was actually an exact copy of that of a virtually identical DropShuttle that was currently in the hangars of the Avalon SpacePort, undergoing maintenance repairs. And thirdly, that this particular DropShuttle actually came not from the planet, but rather from another JumpShip that had stationed itself at the other Recharging Station located at the planet's nadir. The DropShuttle then took a longer, more circular route that brought it low from the planet's orbit so that the observers from this particular Recharge Station automatically surmised that it had indeed lifted off from the surface of the planet. A coded signal that supposedly came from the SpacePort informing the station crew that a supply shuttle had lifted off from one its landing pads to service the _Znutar_ only served to increase the deception.

  Once the DropShuttle had successfully attached itself to the _Znutar_, its crew went to work. The _Merchant_ Class JumpShip was virtually devoid of people at this time, it's crew were actually scheduled to be transported to the ship in less than twenty-four hours from now so it had been left drifting in space. Once they had successfully used the forged passkeys to open the airlocks, the maintenance crew of the DropShuttle immediately split into two teams, one heading towards the engineering section while the second team headed for the bridge.

  The team that headed towards the engineering section also dragged a long, rectangular box that was several meters across and weighed several tons. Because the ship's thrusters had not been active, the zero-gravity enabled the team to conveniently position the crate into a far corner where the ship's fusion reactor was located and they had managed to attach some cables in an input panel that was conveniently located at the base of the crate. Once they had run some diagnostic tests that made sure that the box's contents were operational, they quickly lashed it to a rear storage compartment, being careful to hide the wires that trailed from the side of the ship's reactor along with the rest of the wirings that lined the walls of that section so that it seemed to be part of the ship's circuitry. Because so many JumpShips had been customized to the point that jury-rigging was an integral part of any ship, only through careful observation would anyone know that those additional wirings should not have been there.

  As the second team used their forged passkeys to enter the _Znutar's_ bridge, they immediately began to place new programs unto the ship's computer and navigational systems as well as making some adjustments on its IFF-transponder codes. After successfully uploading these programs, they quickly tested them to make sure that the JumpShip crew would not immediately notice these new programs when they would do a standard preflight check. Since the team had rehearsed this process to the point where they could practically do it blindfolded, the entire operation lasted no more than fifteen minutes.

  Within less than thirty minutes, both teams had returned back to the cargo hold of the DropShuttle that then undocked from the _Znutar_ and proceeded back to pass by the unsuspecting Recharge Station before it would go along its circuitous route back to its waiting JumpShip. Just as before, the station's crew logged the comings and goings of the shuttle along with the other small craft that went to and fro alongside of it during this busy day.

  Captain Markus Pym smiled as he saw the pencil-thin silhouette of the _Znutar_ outlined against New Avalon's morning sun as he stared out into the sky from his apartment's window. He had finally achieved the high point of his life; where he was once nothing more than a merchant captain trying to eke out an existence, everything now seemed to drift his way at last. It was only less than a decade ago when the second Star League was formed and he had been one of the first to embrace its message of unity for all mankind. Pym had risen up the ranks quite rapidly; his skills at navigating the farthest reaches of space had won him accolades from his peers. That the money they doled out to him was generous also added to his attraction for the high life.

  Pym adjusted his Captain's uniform as he strode over to the still sleeping woman lying on his bed. "Jenny, wake up." He said as he sat down beside the bed and stroked her hair.

  The blond made a slight stirring noise as she finally came to consciousness and smiled at him from bright, blue eyes. Pym had met her just a few months before while staying in Tharkad while he was on assignment. He was immediately attracted to her long legs and firm breasts when he first spotted her at a local nightclub. Being a daring sort of fellow, he immediately approached her and was pleasantly surprised when she returned his advances. It seemed that she too was stuck in an unhappy marriage and was looking for a one-night fling just to get away from all the pressures of her vapid, lackluster life.

  After their affair had gone from a casual one into a lust-filled obsession, he quickly declared his love for her and vowed that once this latest assignment was over, he would then divorce his wife and they would live happily ever after. Jenny initially resisted, saying that she wasn't sure whether she had the guts to leave her own husband but Pym's persistence ultimately won out just a few nights ago, when he finally gave her an eighteen-karat engagement ring. He had enough money saved up to handle any sort of alimony demands that his first wife could bring onto him and then some. Although he hated having to leave his two kids behind for he was quite fond of the two tykes, Pym was confident that he could get over them in a few years with Jenny at his side.

  "Come on, get dressed." Pym laughed as he stood up from the foot of the bed as Jenny got up and threw a bathrobe over her naked body. "I'd like to have breakfast with you at the Garden Inn before I have to leave."

  "Okay, okay." Jenny grumbled as she walked into the bathroom. "Promise that you'll get me a fur coat when you go to Tharkad, okay?" She called out to him while the slush of the faucet ran in the sink.

  "I promise." Pym said as he adjusted the collar of his uniform for the umpteenth time. Jenny loved gifts, the more expensive the better, it was fortunate that he had a high-paying salary or else she would have been too costly of a mistress for him.

  After several minutes, Jenny came out, looking wonderfully refreshed in a tight black dress that seemed to reveal more than it covered up. "What do you think? Remember that dress you bought me when you made that jump to Canopus IV? It seems to fit me so well." She giggled.

  "That's because I know every inch of your body." Pym said as he took her in his arms and gave her a long kiss.

  "Okay, buster." Jenny laughed as she pulled away from him. "Let's get to breakfast. I do hope you won't see any more women until you come back."

  "It's a promise." Pym said as he reached for the button beside the door. He wasn't sure whether he could fulfill that guarantee, for his libido was always in full throttle, but at least, he could try.

  As the door opened to his touch, Pym let out a cry of shock as his Doppelganger came through the opened doorway and faced him. Pym could hardly believe his eyes as his exact duplicate stared back at him from a virtually identical uniform. As he turned in confusion over to Jenny and back to his indistinguishable twin again, he failed to notice that his double had pulled out a needler from the folds of his coat and aimed it at him.

  The shots from the needler were virtually silent as several clumps of cyanide-tipped metal shards ripped into the front of Pym's chest and he went down.

  "Help me." Jenny said as she began to drag the still twitching body of the JumpShip Captain back into the apartment. Pym's double closed the door behind him and helped her dump the corpse into the bathtub. As he adjusted his uniform to match Pym's, Jenny took the dead man's wristwatch, leather wallet and wedding ring and handed them over to him.

  "I just received word from the team that all is in place on the _Znutar_. Blessed Blake is truly on our side." The Doppelganger said.

  Jenny was stone-faced as she adjusted his collar; just the way Pym wore it. "Do not mention Blake again for the rest of this operation, you fool."

  "I'm sorry." The double said. "Just feeling a bit nervous, that's all."

  "Remember what you have to do." Jenny said. "Now hurry up or you will be late for the briefing."

  "Yes, of course." He said as he headed out of the door. "_Adieu_."

  "No, no." Jenny was angry." He always says _Ciao_."

  "_Ciao_." The imposter corrected himself before he finally left and closed the door.

  Jenny frowned as she called the support team from her scrambled communicator to help her dispose of the body. She had hoped that they would have gotten a more experienced operator for this part of the assignment, but things had developed so fast they just didn't have the time to train him properly. But then again, things never go completely smooth in any operation, she knew from previous experience.

  Every mission, regardless of how thorough one's planning or training for it, always had that one intangible variation- luck.


	8. 6 Her Cold, Cold Heart

  In the morning hours, the café was always busy. Having been one of the first restaurants that were reconstructed following the devastating Federated Commonwealth Civil War just a few years before, many people flocked to have their espressos and lattes before heading off to work and rebuilding their shattered city.

  For the last few days, some people would notice a young, redheaded woman sit herself beside one of the booths by the window and sip her coffee every morning. It wasn't just the angular contours of her aquiline nose, nor her seemingly full-breasted figure that startled them, but rather it was something else. Had some of them been talent scouts, they would have noticed that her precise movements and air of authority automatically made her stand out from the crowds of droll, dreary office workers that shuffled to and fro. Military psychologists called it Command Presence; politicians called it charisma while actors would label it as box-office appeal. Whatever it was, she had it.

  A few people did try to pick her up every now and then, introducing themselves and saying what a striking woman she was and how chilly the weather was today, hopefully trying to start a conversation that would lead on to a more fruitful relationship but she utterly ignored them. She was living in the deserts of her heart and she did not want to be disturbed. The winter was cold, but she was colder still.

  Major Dominic Durant sat opposite her this particular morning and sipped at his second cup of sweet almond cappuccino. She ignored hers and a tan scum had formed upon the top when the gourmet coffee had begun to cool. It was the winter season all across most of the planets in the Inner-Sphere and everyone huddled in their insulated coats for added warmth. This winter seemed to be the coldest in decades. The frost on the glass window beside them partially obscured New Avalon's morning sun.

  Dominic placed a folder of papers on the table. "Here are the latest intelligence reports on the Tharkad Conference." He said.

  Captain Natasha Kerensky didn't say a word; she just turned her head and looked out of the window, towards the street where a number of office buildings were being reconstructed.  

  Dominic frowned and took another sip from his cup. It had been several weeks since that incident in Torrance, when her unit lost a number of people from an unknown assassin. Although in a military sense, the damage to the Black Widow Company was minimal, Natasha took the loss very deeply. The exact circumstances were not truly known but it seemed to have a profound effect on the Black Widow. Whereas in the past she was energetic and projected great leadership skill, now she seemed to just withdraw into herself, never putting her full efforts to the tasks at hand. It was if her very soul had been torn out of her, leaving nothing but a ghostly shell of a woman.

  The rest of the Widows tried to act as professionally as always, but the lack of initiative from their commanding officer began to put a strain on the entire unit. Dominic had to step in and finally gave the orders to place the unit on alert and transport it to Tharkad where they would provide additional security for the conference delegates. Natasha barely said a word as she stayed behind in New Avalon while her unit shipped out just under a week ago. It seemed as if she fell into a creeping lethargy that sapped her energies and she became an emotionless, unfeeling automaton, going through the motions of living but never truly alive.

  "Dammit, Captain." Dominic was finally beginning to lose his temper. "This can't go on."

  Dominic Durant was the only son of a well to do merchant family who had substantial stock holdings in General Motors of Kathil, one of the largest conglomerates in the Federated Suns. Although his aptitude in regards to piloting a 'Mech were never up to speed in comparison with his peers, Dominic did develop a talent for cryptography and intelligence analysis during his college days in the New Avalon Institute of Science, graduating at the top of his class in that field. Upon his graduation just under a decade ago, Dominic was quickly caught up in the fervor in regards to the rebirth of the second Star League. An avid believer in the eventual unity of all mankind, Dominic quickly volunteered in the newly formed SLDF Intelligence Command and rapidly moved up through the ranks in an astonishingly short time. Because of his immense talents in coming up with the correct estimates in military analysis, Dominic was one of the most sought-after staff officers in the entire army.

  When the Federated Commonwealth Civil War started, Dominic became part of General Galen Cox's command staff, it was said that his talents rivaled that of the legendary Cox himself. Soon after the end of that war, Dominic was transferred to SLDF Special Forces Command, where he could use his immense gifts as part of a new force that could handle extreme cases in which conventional troops would be at a disadvantage. So far he had proven his worth many times over.

  After what seemed an eternity, Natasha turned her head and faced him. "I'm sorry." She said as she tried to smile but failed.

  "I know how you feel, Captain. You took a grievous loss and it hurts. But, Jesus, you have to get over it. The Star League needs you, the Inner-Sphere needs you."

  "I realize that." Natasha said. "Let's get down to business then."

  "Okay." Dominic said as he raised the cup to his mouth for another draught of the hot, milky beverage. "Intel reports that all fronts seem to be quiet. Too quiet, in my opinion." He had a platonic affection for her and they always had maintained a professional relationship. Many people in the SLDF High Command actually believed that Dominic was the only one who ever got along with Natasha; hence, they permanently attached him as Intelligence Liaison to her unit.

  "Then we aren't really needed, then."

  "Maybe, but it pays to be prepared just in case any unpleasant surprises come up. And they often do."

  "So what do you want me to do?"

  "I'd like you to accompany me. I will be part of the last batch of delegates to the Tharkad Conference. The transport has already been prepared, we leave this evening." Dominic said.

  Natasha didn't answer as she looked away towards the window once more.

  "Captain, please." Dominic said softly. "If anything, maybe a trip like this may snap you out of that rut that you're in right now."

  "Are you ordering me to go, Major?"

  "Of course not, you know that." Dominic said. "I can't order you to do anything, period. Despite the fact that I have seniority over you, I know that you will only obey orders that you see fit. You have always been a rebel, Natasha. Even for those who care about you."

  Natasha's eyes widened as she turned and faced him again. It was the first time ever that he had called her by her first name. "You're right. Okay, I'll be at your disposal. What's the next step?" She said.

  Dominic smiled for the first time in as many days. She was beginning to come out of her shell. "I assume that you will be taking that _Warhammer_ 'Mech with you?"

  "I never leave home without it." Natasha made a little smile, the first in as many weeks.

  "Expecting trouble?"

  "I don't find trouble, trouble finds me."

  "Okay, I'll make arrangements to have it shipped with us. Since this is the last batch of delegates, we will still have plenty of room left so I don't think it will be a problem."

  "Anything else for now?" The Black Widow asked.

  "Yes, I'm attending a briefing with the transport group as well as the delegates just before we leave. I'd like you to be there."

  "Fine." Natasha said. "When and where?"

  "Due to security precautions, the delegates will be shipped to the campus of the New Avalon Institute of Science, they have a private SpacePort there and that's where we will be embarking from. Meet me there at five this afternoon."

  "Okay." The Black Widow got up to leave.

  "And Captain," Dominic said just as she was about to go through the door of the café.

  "Yes?" Natasha said.

  "It's great to see you smiling again." Dominic smiled back as the Black Widow nearly made a giggle before turning her head and walked out. He was getting there, it looked like there was some hope yet.

  The briefing for the Star League delegates was held in the main amphitheatre of the NAIS campus. The reasons were that some of the delegates might complain if it was held in a common classroom and the second basis was that the chairs in the auditorium were recently upholstered with Melcher leather, making them pleasantly comfortable to sit on. As it was, the auditorium was not even half full, so the delegates, their junior aides and secretaries tended to clump together in accordance to their respective cliques. It all seemed to resemble a miniature map of the Inner-Sphere.

  "Ladies and gentlemen," Carlos Sanz said with a broad smile on his face as he spoke through the microphone system so that even those who sat close to the exits could hear him. It was almost as if he was performing a commencement ceremony. "Good evening. I am Carlos Sanz, your official liaison to the Star League Council. I would like to thank all of you for attending this briefing before we board our DropShips." He said. "Now I may have been born in New Syrtis and that would make me a citizen of the Federated Suns but I personally hold no grudges against any of the other Successor States and I shall treat you all with an equally superior disdain. Such is the respect for everyone in our new Star League."

  Sanz waited until the effect of his hackneyed joke had subsided before continuing. "We will be boarding the _Amerigo_, she is a _Monarch_ Class DropShip and I am very happy to say that since this ship has been chartered exclusively for the Conference and since we are the last batch, that means that each delegate has been given their own private luxury rooms." He said.

  "What about the other two hundred staterooms, will they be used?" Baroness Mishai Singh, the official delegate of the Federated Suns, spoke through the intercom unit in the armrest of her chair. The amplified sound reverberated across the entire auditorium.

  "Good question." Sanz said. "Since this is official Star League business, the other staterooms will not be used because the _Amerigo_ has been chartered exclusively for the delegates and it is for them only. There will be no other civilians present for this trip."

  "Will the ship's casino be open for the duration of the trip?" A younger representative asked from the Lyran delegation, drawing both laughs and jeers from the others.

  "Unfortunately not." Sanz smiled. "Neither will the gift shops be open either. However, I can say that one of the dining areas will be open and is catered exclusively by Fujikawa, a master chef from the Draconis Combine. I hear that his _fugu_ is excellent." He said with apparent relish. "The vidtape theatre will also be operational for those of you who prefer watching Tri-Vid movies in the company of others as well as both the lounges and the saunas." Sanz added. "For this particular trip, food and beverages will be complimentary, so eat and drink as much to your hearts content, just make sure that you are not too full or too drunk by the time we get to Tharkad."

  That latest remark drew more guffaws than his previous joke.

  "I do not like Japanese food and I'm sure neither do a lot of others, will you consider replacing the chef with someone more suited to continental tastes?" The dry, emotionless voice on the PA system came from no less than from the official representative of the Lyran Alliance, Duke Rudiger Steiner.

  Sanz continued to smile, he knew that the Lyran contingent was both testing his leadership as well as jockeying for power in case he should falter. He stole a glance at the official representative of the Combine, Count Seiji Oshiwara, but the oriental man remained emotionless, perhaps waiting to see if he could diffuse the situation. "I am so terribly sorry but the arrangements are set. If you wish to be served with a different cuisine, I'm sure the ship's galley will be more than adequate to whatever culinary requests you desire. Room service is also complimentary so you may be served in the luxury of your own rooms." He said.

  Duke Steiner said nothing but continued to scowl his way. He would try to test him again soon, Sanz was sure.

  "What about the security arrangements?" Dominic opened up his own question, wanting to get to more serious subjects. He was sitting at the back row towards the exit; the Black Widow sat beside him.

  "Security will of course be tight." Sanz explained. "We have a squad of SLDF military police which will be on board to provide personal security. Although each contingent is allowed to bring a few personal bodyguards, all weapons will be stored in a specially designated armory that will be guarded on a twenty-four hour basis. Elements of the Davion Guards will be providing aerospace fighter escort once we get underway but will not accompany us when we make the jump." Sanz continued. "The journey will only be for a few weeks and once we jump into the Tharkad system, an SLDF aerospace contingent will escort us to the surface of the planet. We have received no credible threats as of this point and since most of the main delegates are now in Tharkad, any probability of attack to us is likely to be minimal." He grinned. "All the big fishes are already there, so they won't get anything by trying to catch us."

  "Are you trying to say that we are nothing more than useless clods and that we bear no importance to this Conference? I am insulted!" Duke Rudiger Steiner interjected once again.

  "Not at all, my dear Duke." Sanz made a short laugh to try to cool some inflamed passions. "On the contrary, we are definitely important. That's why the conference hasn't started yet. They are waiting for us." His latest joke drew some giggles from the anti-Lyran cliques that were beginning to form.

  "Mr. Sanz," Baroness Mishai Singh spoke using her chair's PA system.  "I would like to say something."

  "Please do," Sanz said. "Baroness Singh has the podium."

  "I would just like to say." Singh said. "That this is not meant to be a field trip to some distant world nor should this be misconstrued as a caravan for tourists either. We are all going to Tharkad for one reason, and that is to meet so that we can patch up whatever differences we have for the good of all mankind." She looked around and made sure she caught everyone's eye. "The Star League is one of the last great symbols of hope and unity for the entire Inner-Sphere. It is less than a decade old but I can already feel that it may be unraveling. We must put aside our petty bickering so that we may find a way for lasting peace and unity. We owe it all to our future generations."

  "Is this another Davion propaganda trick?" Rudiger Steiner interrupted using his chair's own PA system. "The last time you people talked about peace, there was a civil war!"

  "Let her finish!" A young man from the Federated Suns contingent spoke up.

  Natasha turned her head and smiled. The young representative was John Palatine, the heir to the nobility of Torrance. She had met the young lad when she was stationed there during the operation against the White Hand terrorist network a few weeks before. It seemed that despite his apparently low stature compared to the other, more senior delegates, he was not afraid to say what he felt. She liked that.

  Duke Steiner glared at the younger man but did not say a word. It was apparent that he was taking stock of his future enemies in the political arena.

  "Alright," Baroness Singh went on. "This circus seems to reflect what is occurring with the Star League right now. All that I can ask of you is to think; if the Star League should ever be dissolved, the only alternative is war. Please remember that. Thank you."

  "Thank you very much, Baroness, for that illuminating speech." Sanz smiled once more as he addressed the delegates. "Are there any other questions?"

  No one else spoke.

  "Then I would like to thank you all for attending this briefing." Sanz concluded. "There are limousines waiting by the side parking lot to take you to the VIP lounge of the NAIS SpacePort where refreshments will be served as we await final boarding. Thank you."

  As the audience broke up into their respective contingents, John Palatine ran over to Natasha and Dominic. "Hello, Captain. Hello, Major." He then shook hands with them. "It's been a long time since we have seen each other. How are you both?" The young man said.

  "Actually it's only been about three weeks since we disembarked form Torrance." Dominic grinned as he shook Palatine's hand. "We're fine. How are you? It's quite a surprise to see you among the Star League delegates as an official representative to the Conference. I didn't think this was your cup of tea."

  "Well, my mother felt that since I wasn't doing too well in MechWarrior training over at Albion Academy, she asked if I would rather be a politician." Palatine laughed. "I felt I needed a break from my studies anyway so she pulled some strings to get me a slot as a Representative; I guess it's to get my feet wet in the political arena."

  "You sure got your feet wet today." Dominic said. "You've just cross swords with Duke Rudiger Steiner of the Lyran Alliance. I heard he's a real hard ass, one of the staunchly pro-Steiner bloodlines that never accepted the marriage between the Steiners and Davions. He was a big fish when Katrina Steiner-Davion was Archon, now that she's been deposed, he lost some of his political clout."

  "I ain't scared of that old man." Palatine retorted.

  "You don't have to be scared, just be aware." Dominic corrected him. "He is doing what he can to get back his political power so be wary of him. What you've done by speaking out against him is that you've shown your hand. Politics is a game where one never shows his hand unless it's a winning one."

  "Point taken. Thanks, I guess I still got a lot to learn." Palatine said then looked at Natasha. "Captain, you've been pretty quiet all this time. Is something wrong?"

  "I'm fine." Natasha tried to grin but the pain still lingered, instead she was able to just smile meekly.

  "Well I'm glad you're coming along." Palatine grinned. "Just in case we do find trouble."

  Natasha didn't reply.

  "Well, Captain Kerensky and I still need to attend another briefing, this time for the DropShip and JumpShip group." Dominic said. "We will see you later, Representative Palatine."

  Palatine laughed. "Okay, see you later."

  As they went their separate ways, Duke Rudiger Steiner continued to observe them as he walked out of the auditorium and towards his private limousine. He had heard of the rumors that there was a new Black Widow in town and wanted to see if he could introduce himself and perhaps gain her loyalty but decided against it when he saw her with that young Federat upstart. As the Duke got into the limo, he chalked up another three to his imaginary list of enemies.


	9. 7 Preparations

  Whereas the previous meeting among the delegates resembled a microcosm of the fracturing loyalties that characterized the Star League, the meeting between the ship crews and the security personnel was a more subdued and businesslike affair. The SpacePort briefing room was smaller and so a number of junior crewmen tended to just stand at the rear due to the fact that chairs were in short supply.

  "From the top then," Sergeant Edward "Eddie" Pryce addressed the assembled ship crews and security personnel as well as several bodyguards from the delegate group that decided to attend. He had a small moustache and his frizzled scalp had streaks of gray in it, signifying both his seniority in terms of age and experience. "We have two DropShips that will be attached to the _Znutar_ prior to the jump. The first, which will be the _Amerigo_, is piloted by Captain Janice De Llandes and it will be ferrying the delegates. This _Monarch_ Class DropShip will be half empty but has been thoroughly searched before takeoff." Pryce was direct and to the point. "The second DropShip is the _Space Beagle_, she's a _Buccaneer_ Class transport Captained by Elijah Rothstein; she will carry nothing more than last-minute supplies intended for the Conference on Tharkad." The Sergeant then glanced over at Pym, who smiled. "The _Znutar_ will of course be piloted by Captain Markus Pym, one of the veteran JumpShip captains of our Star League."

  "All I can say is that we have done everything to insure that this will be a secure journey." Pryce went on. "My men have searched every millimeter of both DropShips with trained sniffer dogs and the latest detection equipment from the NAIS Experimental Labs. Unless someone invented a new-fangled device that could fool both the dogs and the geniuses here at the New Avalon Institute of Science, we are effectively secure. Every delegate who will be boarding those DropShips has been screened biometrically to make sure they are who they say they are and that goes for every one in this room. I will be with my men on the _Amerigo_ but I will station two MPs each on both the _Znutar_ and the _Space Beagle_. Any questions? No? Good." With that, Pryce then left the podium and sat down in the front row. Being a former infantry trooper with the Eridani Light Horse, he was uncomfortable in addressing people inside an office; he preferred to be out in the field.

  Taking his silent cue, Major Dominic Durant then stood up from his seat and walked over to the podium to brief the crews on his intelligence estimates. Natasha sat towards the rear, her face partially hidden in shadow.

  "The big worry is that some group might try a terrorist attack while we are still on the ground." Dominic began without even introducing himself but it was obvious everyone knew him because of the markings on his Star League uniform. "That is one of the reasons why I made a decision to hold our launch here at the private SpacePort in the NAIS campus. We were able to screen the comings and goings of everyone on a more thorough basis than we ever could, compared to attempting to screen them in the more crowded SpacePort in Avalon City; I believe this was a good decision."

  As Natasha looked around to familiarize herself with the crews, she noticed a young, oriental woman sitting at the rear in an almost parallel position as herself. Like her, the woman was dressed in dark, nondescript clothing and she seemed to be able to fit in with everyone else; hardly anyone noticed her. Natasha knew she must have had Special Forces training; only someone trained in evasion and deception could blend into the background like that.

  "Ground launched missiles are another concern during liftoff." Dominic went on. "We have been granted complete air cover thirty minutes till launch and thirty minutes afterwards. No aerospace craft other than our escorts will be airborne in a fifty-kilometer radius around the NAIS SpacePort at that specified time. VTOL gunships will be patrolling the airspace around this campus during that time. Our aerospace escorts will accompany us all the way to the jump point. From there we will be using a number of designated worlds as our jump references, all of them have been alerted as to when we will arrive and appropriate escorts will be meeting us at each jump destination. For obvious reasons, we will be taking a circular route around the Sarna March as we jump from our last FedSuns controlled worlds in the Achernar PDZ area directly to Free Worlds League space, and then eventually onto Lyran space for the eventual destination of Tharkad. As I said, we will be afforded full protection as per the Star League charter."

  Dominic took a sip of water from a Styrofoam cup before he continued. "As far as our Intelligence estimates, everything seems to be quiet for now. The FedCom Civil War is long over and done with and it seems that every side wants this conference to be fruitful. The Skye separatist movement seems quiet and since we will not be crossing any territory in the Draconis Combine, the Black Dragons should be unable to interfere with our travel arrangements."

  When the Black Dragons were mentioned, Natasha noticed that the young oriental woman suppressed a smirk. The Black Widow surmised that the young lady must be part of the Draconis Combine delegation, most probably a bodyguard of some sort since she attended this briefing.

  "Renegade pirate groups operating in the Sarna March may be a possible threat but since we will be only passing that region quickly, the danger will be minimal." Dominic kept going. "Previously unknown terrorist groups may be a possibility, but unless they have substantial aerospace forces with which to threaten us, that likelihood is highly improbable at this point in time. Our navigational jump plan is secret and is known only to select SLDF intelligence personnel as well as our esteemed JumpShip Captain."

  With those words, all eyes fell on Captain Markus Pym as he sat on the front row. "I will guard them with my life, Major." He grinned while a few people laughed.

  "Thank you, Captain." Dominic beamed. "Alright, people, we may now begin preflight preparations. I'll see you on the landing pads."

  As the meeting broke up, Natasha made her way over to the young woman.

  "I couldn't help but to notice you." The Black Widow said as she offered her hand in greeting. "I am Captain Kerensky, Star League Special Forces."

  The woman smiled and shook her hand. "I am _Tai-i_ Chifune Kishikawa, Captain, of the Otomo. I am so honored to meet the Black Widow."

  "Otomo? How did you know who I am?" Natasha asked. The Otomo were the elite bodyguards of the Coordinator of the Draconis Combine. Each one was a trained killer and martial arts expert.

  "Your reputation precedes you, Captain." Chifune giggled. She seemed so easy-going, like that of a Japanese schoolgirl. Many people, including the enemies of the Combine, would probably never suspect her as belonging to a cadre of elite bodyguards until it would be too late. "Many of us in the Otomo have heard of your numerous exploits such as the incident in Ishiyama Arena. We try to get as much information about you as we can, but of course, because of your occupation, it is sometimes hard to do."

  "I'm glad to have met you." Natasha said. " I hope we won't be needing you, though."

  "And I hope we won't be needing you either, Captain." Chifune grinned as she turned around and began walking towards the landing pads.

  As a K-1 DropShuttle carrying the crew of the _Znutar_ lifted off to rendezvous with the JumpShip, Captain Janice De Llandes walked along the landing pad of her DropShip, doing her line check. She liked to run her hand along the pocked-marked hull of the _Amerigo_; it was as if she was gently rubbing the body of a racehorse before the start. De Llandes liked to do this just before every flight; it was like a ritual to invoke the gods of good fortune. She had been flying to and from planets for nearly twenty years. Never married, she never could hold relationships for long; she preferred to be up and away, traveling around the galaxy. The destination never held any appeal to her; it was always the journey. And the _Amerigo_ was her baby.

  An SLDF military policeman walked over to her. "How is everything, Captain?"

  "Everything is good to go." De Llandes answered. "We will be taking off shortly."

  "See you onboard, Captain." The young man said as he walked away.

  De Llandes sighed. This would probably be the last trip for her and the _Amerigo_. The _Monarch_ Class DropShip was part of her family for generations but there would be no one to leave it to when she retired. De Llandes wondered what she would do with her life then. Perhaps maybe finally settling down in a peaceful world and enjoy the remaining years of her life, she supposed. The Captain of the _Amerigo_ began to walk towards the still open cargo doors, she hoped that this conference would do well, there was too much to lose.

  As the delegates began to walk over from their limousines towards the entrance ramp of the _Amerigo_, Dominic walked over to Natasha. "Your _Warhammer_ has been stored in the _Space Beagle_ according to your specifications. Your private room in the _Amerigo_ is 22B, right next to mine." He said to her.

  "Sorry, Major, but I have decided to travel in the _Space Beagle_." The Black Widow said.

  "The _Space Beagle_? But they are a transport, it won't be very comfortable."

  "Yes, I know. But I really don't like being in the same ship with politicians, plus I want to be with my 'Mech."

  "Captain, you can't exactly use your 'Mech up there, you know."

  "I am aware of that." The Black Widow said. "But I'm staying with the _Beagle_ anyway. The crew said they wouldn't mind."

  "Okay, but you can always transfer over to the _Amerigo_ if you change your mind. You're going to miss some tasty Japanese dishes but I know you don't care too much about those things anyway." Dominic smiled and then shook her hand. "See you later, Captain Kerensky."

  "See you in a bit, Major Durant." She said as she headed towards the other landing pad.

  Within thirty minutes, all the delegates and their staff had clambered onboard the _Amerigo_. The DropShip's powerful thrusters hummed and finally went online, spewing forth massive amounts of fire and energy into the air as it lifted off. Several delegates immediately got sick and used their barf bags accordingly. Within several minutes, the _Monarch_ Class ship was already into the upper atmosphere as its nose cone began to glow bright red. As the _Amerigo_ finally made it into space to rendezvous with the _Merchant_ Class JumpShip _Znutar_, the _Space Beagle_ successfully lifted off as well.

  The smoke plumes from the massive DropShip engines could be seen from miles away as both ships entered space.

  "Knife to Variable, come in." Jenny spoke through her scrambled communicator as she continued to stare out into the sky with her binoculars.

  "This is Variable, reading you loud and clear, over."

  "Targets have successfully lifted off. Stage two ready to begin, over."

  "Roger that. Blessed be to Blake."

  Within minutes, coded HPG transmissions began to filter on all Blakist-controlled HPG stations in the Sarna March and the Free Worlds League until they had reached the birthplace of humanity, Terra.

  It had begun.


	10. 8 Apprehension

  For the nth time in the past forty-eight hours, Captain Markus Pym's hands got the shakes again. He was trying to suppress it by keeping them along the sides of his chair and therefore out of sight but it merely added to his discomfort. Over three weeks had passed since the _Znutar_ had left the New Avalon system and began her journey towards Lyran space. Due to the fact that the JumpShip was equipped with lithium-fusion batteries that enabled her to make two consecutive jumps without recharging and since she had priority with every recharge station she encountered, the _Znutar_ was therefore able to clear both the Disputed Territories as well as the Federated Suns star systems in near record time as they were now journeying across the official boundaries of Free Worlds League space. Nonetheless, Pym was nervous about surreptitious timetables and secret rendezvous; the closer it got to the appointed time, the more apprehensive he became.

  "Skipper, you okay?"

  Pym was startled momentarily but then turned to his right, facing the ship's pilot and Executive Officer, Lieutenant Frank Carruthers. "I'm okay, Frank." He answered.

  Carruthers smiled as he looked back at Pym. "You've been kinda edgy ever since we started this voyage, Skipper. You oughta rest easy now, though; we are now in Free Worlds League space." Carruthers had been Pym's crewman on the _Znutar_ for almost eight years now, but this particular Pym was unfamiliar with that.

  "Yeah, sorry Frank. I guess I haven't been the same since our break in New Avalon." Pym tried to ease his way out of it; perhaps he could still avoid suspicion.

  "Got that right." Carruther's simple smile turned into a rueful grin. "That lady must be hotter than a red tamale."

  The Navigator who sat at the station opposite to the Executive Officer said nothing but smiled. He was new and was therefore still quite shy. Another half-dozen voyages would get him out of that mode.

  "Yes, she is quite good. Might be thinking of settling down with her."

  "Watch it, Skipper!" Carruthers laughed. "Remember, I was Best Man at your wedding!"

  "Oh yeah." Pym silently cursed. He should have studied the personnel files more thoroughly. "Well, you could be my Best Man again." He hoped that this little joke might get him off the hook.

  "That's what I like about you, Skipper. Never missing a beat when it comes with women." Carruthers stayed amused as he monitored the solar sail's charge rating.

  "How long till we're fully charged again?" Pym asked. He seemed out of the woods now.

  "Another two hours, Captain." Carruthers answered. "Unless of course you want to use the lithium-fusion batteries right away?"

  "No, we should only use them for emergencies." Pym unstrapped himself from his Captain's chair. "I'm going to do a check at the cargo hold."

  "Should I start plotting our next jump, Captain?" The Navigator asked.

  "Yes, do that." Pym said as he pushed himself towards the bridge exit. Although there was a little gravity from the ship's thrusters, one could make great strides by pushing off from their perches.

  Carruthers kept his watch on the instruments as he wondered about something. It was a little tiny blip that had registered in his mind's radar but he couldn't pinpoint what it was. The Captain had been so different ever since they started this voyage that it almost seemed like he was someone else. The _Znutar's_ Executive Officer laughed these thoughts away as he imagined the endless parties when they finally got to Tharkad.

  Although the ship's batteries had finally charged up two hours later, the _Znutar_ did not make the jump. Since the ship's internal clock had registered that it was time for night watch, it was decided by the crew to forgo the jump until morning time arose. This was due in part for the comfort of the passengers riding in the _Amerigo_, a _Monarch_ Class DropShip that was attached to the _Znutar's_ hardpoint. As the bridge crew of the _Znutar_ retired to their respective quarters, a skeleton crew kept watch for emergencies.

  The delegates in the _Amerigo_ on the other hand, partook of a lavish dinner laid out for them by the renowned Combine Chef Fujikawa. After the sumptuous feast, quite a few remained and socialized in the ships two lounges while the older ones retired to their private rooms, unable to keep up due to their old age. The Lyran delegation, being the largest group with almost thirty staff members, took over the second passenger's lounge by squatter's rights and refused entry to any non-Lyrans. This invoked a storm of protests from the other delegates as Sanz and Dominic Durant tried their best to keep things from degenerating into chaos. Carruthers and half the crew from the _Znutar_ were also present but then had to depart right after dinner due to the fact that they would have to prepare for the jump in the morning. Captain Pym curiously declined the invitation, for the eighth consecutive time.

  While the crew of the _Space Beagle_ was invited to go on to the _Amerigo_ for dinner, Natasha Kerensky decided to stay behind and do some exercises in the _Beagle's_ port cargo hold. It was important that she stay in shape due to the strenuous physical requirements of her profession. Because of the weak gravity, traveling in space for extended periods tended to atrophy muscles, only strenuous and constant calisthenics as well as intensive anaerobic workouts kept the muscle tissues from wasting away.

  The Black Widow was practicing techniques that she culled from her memory. It was a variant martial art that specialized in low to null-gravity combat. The discipline was a mixture of zero-g acrobatics combined with tumbling which was then incorporated into the usual skills of punching, grappling and kicking as well as close-range elbows and knees. The _kata_, or form, consisted of leaping and bouncing along the walls of the cargo hold while executing flips and rapid directional changes, making sure that one lands on one's feet as well as being able to execute punches and kicks without losing one's footing. It was harder than it looked due to the fact that the low gravity tended to throw one off balance if the practitioner placed too much force on the attacks without knowing proper equilibrium, stance and control. Natasha however, executed the moves as if it was second nature, her natural agility and skills more than compensating for her current weaknesses in attitude. She moved as if she was born to it, not knowing whether this was something taught to her as a child in her past life with the Clans or was instructed by her mentor, a mysterious assassin called Meridian, after she was reincarnated.

  As Natasha worked up a sweat by leaping from one cargo platform to another, using rapid blows and counterblows against imaginary enemies, she heard a whistle from the access-way. Cocking her head back, she noticed a short, mustachioed man dressed in Tech coveralls and carrying a plastic wrapped package in his arms, grinning and gesturing at her to come down.

  The Black Widow instantly leapt over a lashed crate on the side of the hold as she ambled on down to where the crewman was standing. Gravity was slightly more pronounced in the access-way, as it was closer to the JumpShip's thrusters.

  "Bravo, Capitan." Crewman Eladio Rodriguez said as he handed the package over to her. When Natasha first boarded the _Space Beagle_, it was Eladio who showed her where to go and the things that needed to be found as well as catering to her every need. Hailing from a poor family in the Periphery, Eladio was the first of his generation to successfully graduate from an engineering school and the first of his line to travel in space. The little man was the sole breadwinner of his family and he missed them so; but knowing his professional obligations, he signed up for long star voyages, earning more so that he could feed all of his relatives who were all so proud of their native son. Needless to say, Eladio's cheerful nature endeared him to Natasha, and every free time he could get was spent with her, talking about his family and asking about hers.

  Natasha also grew fond of the little man, since Dominic had only paid her a visit once and since she refused all invitations to go to the _Amerigo_, the ever-inquisitive and consistently cheerful Eladio became her constant companion, when he wasn't needed for the ship, of course.

  "What have you got here?" Natasha asked as she partly tore the package.

  "Some food from the buffet of the _Amerigo_." Eladio giggled. "I stole a few dishes so you could try some, _Senorita_."

  "That was very kind of you, Eladio. But you didn't have to." The Black Widow said as her taste buds were aroused from the aromatic odors of the dishes that Eladio had procured for her.

  "Try that one, it is fried shrimp and vegetables." Eladio smiled as he pointed out some tasty morsels. "Or that one, chicken in sweet sauce."

  "_Tempura_ and chicken _teriyaki_, how nice." Natasha smiled as she sampled some. "You are one-of-a-kind, Eladio."

  "_Muchas gracias_. It is of no problem, _Senorita_." Eladio said wistfully. "But I often wonder why you would prefer to be alone so much."

  "Let's just say I have some serious issues that I haven't fully dealt with yet."

  "Like what, _Senorita_ Kerensky?"

  "Well," Natasha explained, "let's just say that if people get too close to me, they usually end up dead."

  "Ah, it is a curse then?"

  "Perhaps."

  Eladio laughed. "You are one-of-a-kind as well, _Senorita_. I have never met one such as like you."

  "For your sake, you better hope you don't meet one like me again." Natasha said. "I've been meaning to ask you, there is another BattleMech stored in the cargo hold here. Who owns it?"

  "Ah, that is _Senor_ Palatine's 'Mech. The old _Crusader_."

  "Yes, it's a vintage model." Natasha was inwardly glad that someone else had decided to bring a BattleMech along as well. "One of the old classics."

  "_Senorita_, yours may be considered an old classic too, but it seems different than the ones I've seen before." Eladio said.

  "That's cause it has been extensively modified." Natasha answered.

  "How so?"

  "Well, for one thing, its uses an extra-light fusion engine that enables it to have more weight for weapons and armor." Natasha explained. "It is armored to the max and carries Clan weapons like gauss cannons and medium-ranged heavy lasers."

  "Very deadly." Eladio said as a matter of fact. "I also noticed it was painted entirely in black and has a red hourglass on its leg; does it have a meaning?"

  "It is a symbol of the black widow spider."

  "Ah, _si_. The spider that kills its mate."

  "Yes." Natasha was taken aback by the irony of her animal namesake but she didn't show it. "I call this _Warhammer_ variant, the Widowmaker."

  A loud chime came on, followed by the syrupy voice of Captain Elijah Rothstein on the ship's PA system. "Eladio, please go to the engineering section, we need some help."

  "Ah, that is my signal to leave, _Senorita_." Eladio said before turning to move away. "I hope we can talk again."

  "We should." Natasha said. "See you later, Eladio."

  Natasha waved a quick goodbye as the _Beagle's_ crewman left via the access way. As the Black Widow picked at her food, she often wondered what it all meant to her now. She could barely hide the pain of her losses and she had nothing to look forward to, nothing to care about. She had yet to fully come to grips with the deaths of Joshua, Kieran and Ethan. It was like there was an emptiness inside of her, a void that kept engulfing her, making her feel lethargic and helpless. She was afraid to feel for others now, afraid that the pain would return should she do.

  As everything began to wind down on both DropShips, Frank Carruthers decided to go back to the bridge to look at something that had been bothering him for the past forty-right hours. As he was going through the star charts several days before, he had noticed peculiar trace routes had been laid out on the ship's navigation computer. The _Znutar's_ Executive Officer wondered who had placed those routes up there for only the Navigator and the ship's Captain had authority to change the star charts.

  As he accessed the bridge's airlock door and ventured inside, Carruthers was startled to see Captain Markus Pym wearing a fully functioning space suit while inputting a number of commands on the ship's computer.

  "Skipper, what the hell is going on?" Carruthers asked as the startled Pym quickly recovered from the unexpected intrusion and turned around. Carruther's jaw dropped as he saw the Captain level a needler pistol at him.

  "You were supposed to be asleep." Pym spoke softly through the suit's amplified PA system as he fired several clumps of cyanide-tipped shards into his subordinate's chest. Carruthers gasped as his body convulsed and began to float downwards due to the ship's micro-gravity, crimson globules of blood floated slowly towards the metallic floor.

  Quickly closing the door and sealing it using the override command on the ship's computer, Pym began to cycle the oxygen tanks through the filter that had been installed in engineering. Since he was protected by his space suit, he would not succumb to the effects of the nerve gas, unlike the rest of the crew and the SLDF security guards. Once the others were neutralized, he would commence lockdown on the _Znutar_ and begin immediate preparations for the jump. It was hard work for one man but Pym preferred that the crew be out of the way just in case of any other unexpected surprises.


	11. 9 Final Option

  Captain Elijah "Ace" Rothstein always liked to be in space. When he was a child traveling in a DropShip for the first time he noticed just how vast the eternal black void was. It was like being surrounded by nothingness; a gaping abyss where you couldn't tell right from left, up from down. The feelings that one gets when one experiences it for the first time is that the general feeling that one should avoid it; it was as if man was not meant to be in space, it wasn't their natural environment. But not Rothstein, he loved it.

  Perhaps it was the wine because soon after he returned from the party over at the _Amerigo_, the captain of the _Space Beagle_ absentmindedly returned to the empty bridge and strapped himself onto the command chair instead of retiring back to his quarters. Such was his nature.

  A sudden lurch brought Rothstein back to his senses as he noticed a change in the ship's micro-gravity. It was almost as if the JumpShip's thrusters had started up. As his mind returned to a certain degree of functionality, his past experience told him that the JumpShip that they were attached to had probably began to fire her maneuvering thrusters in anticipation of a jump. As his alcohol-infused cerebral cortex tried to assimilate everything that he was sensing with that of his past experiences, he snapped back into a cold, lucid reality.

  Rothstein looked around the empty bridge and began to wonder. Why was the _Znutar_ preparing for a jump now? Didn't protocol specifically state that the jump would be postponed until the ship's morning time period so as to make sure everyone was prepared for it? As those thoughts began to plague his mind, he instantly hit the comm. switch to see if he could try to patch in to the crew of the JumpShip. Rothstein then began to get even more apprehensive as he got nothing but static and his heart nearly leaped out of his chest as he noticed the stars flicker for a brief millisecond before disappearing in a brief flash of white light. As his mind raced to tell him that his body had just experienced a spatial warp field that entailed a jump, Rothstein quickly realized that they were no longer in the same star system anymore.

  "_Znutar_, this is _Space Beagle_. Come in, over." Rothstein spoke using the ship's radio, hoping he would get a response as he punched the ship's alert button. "You just made an unauthorized jump. Acknowledge."

  The reply on the speaker made him quiver in apprehension.

  "This is the JumpShip _Znutar_. There is a group of armed men who have taken command of the ship. They have a fusion bomb on board and threaten to instantly detonate it if their demands are not met. The device was attached to the fusion plant of the _Znutar_ the day before we left New Avalon. Please do not attempt to detach your DropShips nor communicate between each other and neither should you attempt to board the _Znutar_. We are in an uninhabited system and there will be no one to help you. Please be calm, we do not wish to hurt anyone but if provoked we will kill everyone. Do not do anything rash; negotiations will begin in a few hours. That is all." The line quickly returned back to static as soon as the last sentence was read out.

  Captain Rothstein sat back in his command chair, stunned. As his crew began to enter the _Beagle's_ bridge, he told them the news. The duty watch officer on the _Amerigo_ heard it too and was able to relay the message to Captain Janice De Llandes just as she got to her command chair after experiencing the same jump sensation in her cabin like everyone else did in theirs.

  Within fifteen minutes, there was an impromptu meeting on the bridge of the _Amerigo_. In addition to Captain De Llandes, Major Dominic Durant, Sergeant Eddie Pryce and Carlos Sanz were present as well. After spending a few minutes replaying the message, everyone became quiet as they desperately searched for a solution within themselves.

  It was Sanz who broke the silence first. "A bomb? Could that be possible?" He asked.

  Dominic looked down. "We searched everything on the ground but we overlooked the _Znutar_. Sorry."

  "What exactly is it that they want?" Sanz said.

  "We don't know that yet." Sergeant Pryce answered. "My guess is that there is only a small contingent of terrorists onboard the JumpShip."

  Sanz shook his head; it was as if he still couldn't believe it. "What about the bomb? Could it kill us all?"

  "Possibly," Pryce answered, "he said it was tied in with the JumpShip's fusion reactor and since our DropShip is attached to the JumpShip, we are in a deep mess."

  "His voice sound familiar to you?" Dominic asked Pryce.

  "It was Captain Pym, no doubt about it." Pryce answered. "Frakhead traitor."

  "Is he in with them, then?" Sanz said.

  "I would assume so." Dominic said as he faced Sanz. "We need to know what our options are."

  "We should talk to the _Beagle_ so we could coordinate." Pryce added.

  "How?" Sanz said. "They said that if we use the radios, we get blown up!"

  "We need to think of something." Dominic said as a matter of fact.

  "First of all," Sanz added, "we don't know what they want. Are they wishing to disrupt the Conference on Tharkad? They will be disappointed because all we are carrying are second-stringers here. What could they possibly want from us?"

  "That's the big question." Dominic said. "Do we wait to find out or do we do something?"

  "What can we do?" De Llandes lamented.

  "First of all," Dominic turned to De Llandes, "where are we? Pym mentioned that we are in an uninhabited system."

  "I'm working on it, sir." The ship's Navigator answered. "So far from what I see in the constellations, it's not on any standard trade routes."

  "Just from what I can see, the star is a yellow dwarf and there seems to be a gas giant off our port bow." De Llandes explained as she observed the system from the ship's viewport. "Looks like there's a moon orbiting the gas giant."

  "I got it!" The Navigator's excited voice startled everyone. "Polyphemos. We are in the Polyphemos system."

  "Polyphemos? Never heard of it." Sanz added.

  "That's because it's technically uninhabited." De Llandes said. "We're a few dozen light years coreward in Free Worlds League space, just in between Marik and Avellaneda."

  "Wonderful. So if the ships get blown to atoms, our escape-pods can't get anywhere?" Dominic asked.

  "There is a possibility." The Navigator retorted as all eyes focused on him. "I once remembered in my astronomical survey classes back in the academy that Polyphemos' gas giant has a moon with a breathable atmosphere."

  "So the fall back would be the gas giant's moon then?" Pryce asked.

  "Guess so." Dominic said, and then looked Pryce in the eye. "Is your unit equipped to disarm a bomb, Sergeant?"

  "Absolutely not." Pryce said. "We have no specialists and no equipment to deal with this threat. We just never prepared for it. Even if we did, the terrorists would detonate it if we tried to pass through the airlock."

  "So what you're all saying is that we're screwed." Sanz concluded.

  "If I could just get my men inside, we could have a chance." Pryce growled.

  "What makes you so sure, Sergeant?" De Llandes asked.

  "I bet my hat that there's maybe two or three terrorists at the most. We were able to screen most of the crew and if they were hidden onboard then we might have noticed them since I did do a routine check on their cargo hold just a few days ago." Pryce explained.

  "But how do we get in there without arousing suspicion?"  Dominic argued. He felt very unlucky that Natasha Kerensky was stuck in the _Space Beagle_; he could have used her insight on all of this.

  "Dammit!" De Llandes exclaimed. "The IFF-transponder beacon; it has a radio frequency as well."

  "What are you talking about?" Sanz asked the DropShip Captain.

  "Of course," Dominic explained as De Llandes began ordering the ship's Communications Officer to modify the _Amerigo's_ comm. gear, "the terrorists will probably be monitoring our radio frequencies if we try to talk to the _Space Beagle_ using normal comm. channels but if we use the frequency of the IFF beacon, there is a chance they might not be monitoring or jamming that."

  "But what if the crew of the _Beagle_ doesn't know about it?" Pryce asked.

  "That's a chance we'll have to take." De Llandes said as the ship's radio frequencies tuned over to the IFF field.

  A steady voice immediately came over the entire bridge as it echoed through the speakers. "It's about time you people figured it out." The voice belonged to Captain Rothstein of the _Space Beagle_.

  "Sorry, Captain." De Llandes smiled in relief as she acknowledged. "But we had a number of other problems that we were trying to sort out as well."

  "Captain Rothstein, is Captain Kerensky with you?" Dominic asked.

  "Right here, Major." The Black Widow answered through the speakers.

  Dominic smiled. Now they had a fighting chance. "I suppose you did hear of what happened?"

  "Yes I did, Major."

  "Any suggestions?" Pryce asked her.

  "A few." The Black Widow said. "but they would have a very slim chance of succeeding."

  "Let's hear them. Beats sitting around waiting for the axe to fall." Dominic said.

  "Is everyone sure that this would be the course of action? Once we start on this path, there is no turning back." Natasha's voice stated as a matter of fact.

  "I'm for it." Pryce said. "We are in the middle of nowhere and no one will ever know of our fates if they decide to kill us."

  "Me too," Dominic agreed,  "these terrorists will probably kill us all anyway even if they get what they want."

  "What makes you so sure?" Sanz asked. It was apparent that he was still wavering between cooperation and resistance.

  "Think about it," Dominic explained, "why strand us out here in the middle of nowhere? They can chop us up at their leisure, no one will ever know. Also, it seems they are waiting for reinforcements, otherwise they would have made their demands by now, that means there is only a few terrorists on the _Znutar_; we have the numbers, we can overwhelm them before their back-up comes."

  "Sound analysis, Major." De Llandes added. "I'm for it too."

  "Okay then." Sanz reluctantly agreed. He felt it could end up with everybody killed but he had no arguments with which to debate them. "What's the next step?"

  As the Black Widow began to explain their options over the comm. unit, each listener realized that there was no longer any chance of turning back; they had made their decision.

  They would fight.


	12. 10 The Unforgettable Fire

  This wasn't supposed to happen; then again, nothing ever goes according to plan. But it did make Pym feel extremely apprehensive. Up to this point, the plan had gone smoothly. He had succeeded in taking over the _Znutar_ by gassing the crew while they slept during night watch and he was able to make two consecutive jumps into the uninhabited Polyphemos system before everyone knew what had happened. He was supposed to rendezvous with WOB forces the moment he completed the jump.

  Only his allies weren't there; at least, not yet. Pym hoped that they were just delayed for a few hours and not days. He was all alone in the _Znutar_, a concerted effort by the hostages would ruin his chances of being reunited with his blessed brethren and quite possibly doom the mission to failure. The operational parameters were such that it would be prudent to actually retrieve the blasphemous datadisk so as to assure the wavering factions in WOB that the heresy wasn't real by discounting it publicly. And not to mention the accolades which would be awarded to him by the utter success of the mission.

  As he plugged into the untarnished auxiliary oxygen supply by the use of his space suit's umbilical, Pym continued to stare at the monitors that showed the two docked DropShips along the _Znutar's_ hardpoints. The detonation command for the fusion bomb was only one mouse-click away. Pym had hoped to give the hostages a warning if they violated the rules; perhaps a sudden threat would cower them before he would trigger the detonation. Although he was ready to die for the cause, Pym hoped that it wouldn't have to come to that.

  Beads of sweat flowed freely down Pym's forehead despite the cold environment. His space suit's visor had also begun to frost over from the difference in temperature but he hurriedly wiped it off. Pym had been in the suit for several hours now and was feeling extremely uncomfortable. Where in Blake's hell were his backups?

  A loud crunching noise that reverberated along the ship's hull automatically jolted him from his mental lethargy as his hands shook. Looking around the monitors nervously, Pym noticed a stream of garbage float out from one of the DropShip's airlocks. The _Amerigo_ was jettisoning her trash.

  Pym cursed at himself. Although it was a provocative action, he never threatened them if they did that; not to jettison one's trash was not part of the instructions that he had given. Pym quickly stabbed the button to activate the ship's comm. system and directed his message to both DropShips. "Attention all DropShips, you are not to jettison your garbage at this time, if you attempt to make another provocation, we will explode the bomb. Do not test us again!" He said tersely, hoping that making them believe there was more than just him on board would make them stay cowed. 

  Like his counterpart, beads of sweat formed on Sergeant Eddie Pryce's forehead as well. He knew he couldn't wipe it off because that would mean he would have to open his armored space suit's visor and expose himself to the deadliest environment known to man. But then again, he was used to being in these types of situations. Pryce and his men had secretly left the _Amerigo_ when the DropShip started to dump her trash into the vacuum of space. It was an ideal distraction for it focused the attention of the terrorists away from the real action. Since there was no bright flash that indicated a nuclear detonation, it looked like it was working so far.

  Pryce knelt along the outer hull near the aft thrusters of the _Znutar_, patiently waiting for his colleague to finish the security bypass on one of the JumpShip's aft vents. If they had tried to access the airlocks, cameras located nearby would have surely spotted them, that there was a possibility that a terrorist could also be guarding each airlock entrance could also not be discounted. The rest of Pryce's squad, virtually the entire SLDF contingent on the _Amerigo_, waited close by, crouching and trying their best to avoid the surveillance monitors placed all along the hull of the _Znutar_.

  After a few tense minutes that seemed like centuries, Pryce's colleague turned around and made a thumbs-up sign as the other men began to use pneumatic drills to remove the outer casing of the vent. Once they were able to get inside, the team would be able to make their way into an maintenance causeway and then on towards both the JumpShip's bridge and engineering sections. As Captain Natasha Kerensky outlined it on the radio, she said that it would have a very slim chance of succeeding against a well-prepared terrorist unit; both Pryce and the Black Widow were counting on the limited numbers of the terrorists so that they could be rapidly overwhelmed and the bomb disarmed before enemy reinforcements would arrive. Needless to say, it was easier said than done. Due to the fact that she was commanding the operation as well as lack of any equipment on the _Space Beagle_, Natasha had to stay behind and leave the actual operation to Pryce. As the SLDF sergeant followed the point man inside the vent shaft, the Black Widow held her breath.

  Pym was now becoming a nervous wreck. It had been many hours now and still no sign of the backup unit. That the hostages made an unexpected move also began to make his already unhinged mind even more paranoid. Pym began to imagine hordes of enemy commandos just waiting outside the door of the bridge, weapons drawn and grim, blackened faces permeated his imagination. As his knees began to tremble, he heard a loud beep on the ship's sensors. Quickly glancing over to the ship's radar console, he noticed that the _Znutar's_ computer had stated that another JumpShip just appeared several hundred kilometers off his port bow. With a loud whoop, Pym nearly jumped out of his chair. His allies had arrived.

  _Precentor_ Brandon St. Jamais fought a momentary bout of disorientation as the JumpShip _Zarathustra_ entered the pirate point near the gas giant. The younger brother of the WOB _Precentor-Martial_ made a silent curse to himself for their late arrival; they had experienced a moderate breakdown when a portion of their solar sail got shredded when they made the jump from Terra to Procyon. That they had forgotten to bring spare parts for the sail only added to the frustration but it was now ancient history as they could clearly see the cigar-shaped hull of the _Znutar_ just several hundred kilometers ahead of them. They might have been late but the prize was now well within reach.

  "Target JumpShip is in sight." The Commander of the _Union_ class Dropship to which Brandon was riding in said. "Shall we commence detachment from _Zarathustra_, _Precentor_?"

  "Yes, do that," Brandon answered, "and once we are clear, tell _Adept_ Vosanovic to launch immediately afterwards."

  "Blake's will be done, Precentor." The _Union_ Commander acknowledged.

  As Pym began to gleefully adjust the ship's comm. unit to hail the approaching WOB JumpShip, he immediately heard a click behind him where the bridge airlock was located. Just as Pym drew his needler, the explosive shockwave propelled him sideways as the door was blown in using C8 satchel charges.

  As he tried to shake off the concussive aftereffects of the explosion, Pym took a laser shot in the chest as pinkish sprays began to emanate from the holes all over his space suit. As his strength began to rapidly subside from his body, he looked up and noticed a man in an armored space suit standing over him, a laser rifle in his hands. That was the last thing he ever saw.

  "Lousy bastard," Pryce spoke through the now-opened comm. channels using his space suit, "it was just him. He killed everybody on the _Znutar_ and took us all hostage; all by his lonesome."

  "Well isn't that something." Dominic said as he monitored the situation along with Sanz in the _Amerigo's_ bridge. "How about the bomb?"

  "My men are working on it." Pryce answered as his colleagues began to look over the ship's instrumentations and computers. "It may take us fifteen minutes to defuse the thing."

  "We may not have that, look!" One of the SLDF troopers shouted while pointing at the ship's viewports.

  A white-painted _Union_ class DropShip was rapidly approaching them as two fighters resembling massive flying wings emerged from it. Pryce cursed.

  _Adept_ Dragan Vosanovic made minute adjustments on the control stick of his 100-ton _Riever_ heavy aerospace fighter as it streaked towards the target using its afterburners. Although he was a veteran aerospace pilot with almost twenty years of experience, Vosanovic knew that the slightest mistake could cost him his life. He was therefore extra careful because of the new types of armaments that his fighter was equipped with. There was no telling what kind of glitches that the ARCLIGHT system might have, since it was never used in an actual combat situation before. Although he preferred to have been equipped with his standard payload, especially his beloved 200mm autocannon, Vosanovic knew that compromises needed to have been made. And in this situation, the ARCLIGHT might just prove to be the one weapon to make any of Blake's enemies quiver with fear.

  As Pryce and his men stood wide-eyed at the approaching fighters, the comm. console of the _Znutar_ instantly went online as the approaching _Union_ DropShip hailed it.

  "_Znutar_, code in please." The voice from the _Union_ said.

  Pryce looked around in disgust. If only he had an extra fifteen minutes. He cursed the gods for all he was worth because deep inside, he knew it was too late.

  "Code in." The voice repeated.

  At the bridge of the _Union_, the WOB Communications Officer glanced over to where Brandon St. Jamais was sitting. "No reply, sir." She said as a matter of fact.

  As all eyes on the DropShip's bridge looked over to him for a decision, Brandon made another silent curse to himself. If only they had gotten in a few hours sooner, they would have had the disks and this would be all over. Whatever it was, it became Blake's will, and his will had to be done.

  "Patch me in to the _Riever_ pilots." Brandon ordered.

  Vosanovic's _Riever_ continued to plow straight ahead as the _Znutar_ began to loom larger and larger as he approached it. He could see from the side mirrors of his cockpit that his wingman was close behind as his comm. link activated.

  It was his superior, Precentor St. Jamais. "We have received no authentication from our operative on board. By Blake's will, destroy them all."

  "At once, Precentor." Vosanovic replied as he made a short prayer before arming the ARCLIGHT system. A slight beep indicated that the warhead was primed. As lead fighter, he would make the primary runs until his ARCLIGHT was exhausted from which then his wingman would take over. Quickly opening up his throttle, Vosanovic began to level the _Riever_ for an attack run.

  Pryce spoke through his space suit's comm. link; his voice was calm, almost dreamlike. "All DropShips, detach now. Get the hell out of here."

  "Sergeant, we can still get your men outta there, head for airlock AA2." Captain De Llandes pleaded as she began to start up the _Amerigo's_ thrusters.

  "GET OUT NOW!" Pryce shouted at the top of his lungs. He knew he was dead, but there might still be a chance for the delegates.

  On the _Amerigo's_ bridge, De Llandes turned to her XO with tears in her eyes. "John, detach then go to full throttle. We are outta here."

  "Destination, Captain?" Lieutenant John Shive asked as he toggled the detach switch.

  "Head for the moon orbiting the gas giant." She replied. It was closer than it looked for the _Znutar_ came in at a pirate point very close to the jovian-type gas giant. If the _Amerigo_ went in at full-throttle they might be able to get into the moon's atmosphere before the aerospace fighters could get within range. Although the gravity on the DropShip would be very intense, it was the one chance they had. "Attention everyone," De Llandes spoke using the ship's PA system, "prepare for high-g thrust."

  "Go, Captain." Natasha said to Rothstein inside the bridge of the _Space Beagle_. "Head for the moon." She added as she unstrapped herself from the gunner's chair and headed towards the door.

  "Where are you going?" Rothstein called after her as he activated the ship's thrusters.

  "Cargo bay." Came the Black Widow's reply.

  Vosanovic cursed as he saw both DropShips detach themselves from the _Znutar_ and began to move away. If he fired now then there was a chance that the ARCLIGHT might fail due to the extreme range. But if he could get them all with one shot, then no one would be the wiser. Ignoring the warning light on his targeting system, Vosanovic toggled the fire button. Seconds later, the first ARCLIGHT missile detached from the front of the _Riever's_ nose as its own thrusters ignited a half-second later.

  As Captain De Llandes took over the helm controls of the _Amerigo_, she noticed a small object erupt from the lead fighter and began to streak towards them. Gritting her teeth, she pulled at the throttle until the DropShip attained maximum thrust. The high-g forces were putting a serious strain as all the blood in her body began to pool at the back of her chair but she knew they needed to clear the _Znutar_ as soon as possible. A few crewmembers let out groans of pain as the ship's gravity increased dramatically to near dangerous levels but De Llandes stayed conscious through sheer willpower. Dominic Durant and Carlos Sanz had already passed out in their chairs from the extreme g-forces.

  As the missile came closer its small fuel load ran out and only its inertia began to carry it forward. The small microchip in the missile however, could not distinguish between being fired in space or inside of a planet's atmosphere and so went into failsafe mode when it detected that its fuel tanks were empty. It then deactivated the warhead just seconds before it plowed into the hull of the _Znutar_.

  Vosanovic let out a stream of obscenities as the targeting computer told him that the missile deactivated its own warhead just as it hit the JumpShip. Such was the glitches of an experimental weapon. He knew he had only one missile left but it was now well within range. As he calmed himself down, Vosanovic toggled the fire switch again. The second ARCLIGHT missile leapt out from his now empty launcher.

  It took less than three minutes for the second missile to impale itself onto the _Znutar_. As the warhead impacted onto the hull, it detonated a ring of high explosive surrounding a hollow sphere. As the ensuing explosion crushed the sphere into the size of a grapefruit, billions upon billions of nuclei joined into each other in half a microsecond. The ensuing effect released some 500 kilotons- equal to 500,000 tons of TNT- as well as trillions of fast neutrons. Then came the light in all their spectrums, from visible to infrared and ultraviolet as the temperature in and around the JumpShip reached over 30 million degrees.

  The ensuing explosion completely vaporized the _Znutar_ as its shockwave hit both DropShips. The _Amerigo_ was accelerating well ahead of the other ship and it absorbed the nuclear shockwave with barely a hint of damage. The _Space Beagle_ took the brunt of the blast in its aft hull as parts of her superstructure began to buckle.

  "Switch to lead." Vosanovic ordered his wingman as he began to slow down so that the _Riever_ behind him could get ahead. He was out of missiles now and so the timing needed to be good or else the DropShips would get to the moon. Hitting a moving DropShip with a bulky nuclear missile would be that much harder. Vosanovic thought about it for a second until he remembered his training. As his wingman's _Riever_ got ahead of him, Vosanovic's own fighter fell in behind his partner's left wing. "The targeting system is not good against smaller objects. Use proximity detonation." He ordered his wingman.

  "Blake's will be done." His wingman replied as he switched the detonation mode on his ARCLIGHT system from impact to proximity.

  Ace Rothstein grimaced as he tried to stay in control of his ship. Alarms all around the bridge of the _Space Beagle_ whined as pieces of the hull began to peel off. The gravity pull from the overburning thrusters was intense but he knew that they were just less than a few dozen kilometers away from breaching the moon's atmosphere. He could see from the viewports that it was a dry, dusty world. If he could just land in a decent place, there was a chance they might still get out alive.

  De Llandes could see that the enemy fighters were right behind them and it looked like that they were going to fire again. A different sounding alarm momentarily jolted her further. "What the hell was that?" She asked John Shive.

  "Escape pod! Someone's using it!" Shive shouted as the vibrations hummed all over the ship.

  "Stupid idiots! We're almost there!" De Llandes shouted back amid the din.

  Sey Fujikawa had had enough. First they were taken hostage by a group of terrorists in the JumpShip and now they were being shot at with nuclear weapons! He was just a chef who wanted no part in any war. In fact, he even got into trouble several years back when he attended a peace rally in the Combine. Fujikawa believed in peace and love, not killing and dying. Although the gravity was so intense that he had to crawl to the nearest escape pod, he managed to get inside and activate the autopilot. Within seconds the escape pod's ejection system activated as it propelled the pod away from the damaged _Monarch_ class DropShip.

  As Vosanovic's wingman fired the ARCLIGHT missile, an escape pod jettisoned out of the fleeing _Amerigo_ and drifted on past the stricken _Space Beagle_. The nuclear missile was primed for a proximity explosion and so locked onto the nearest target. However when the escape pod began to loom in front of it, its tiny microchip mistook it for a much larger target and instantly detonated the fusion warhead.

  The two _Riever_ aerospace fighters barely had time to pull up as the nuclear shockwave washed out both their sensors but since their fuselages were heavily armored, they were still functional. Vosanovic cursed for the third time as luck once again sided with the hostages. The _Amerigo_ was nearly swept sideways from the shockwave while the already damaged _Space Beagle_ took another heavy battering which ripped into her shattered hull.

  While the crew of the _Amerigo_ regained control and the DropShip began to pierce the moon's atmosphere, the _Space Beagle_ had incurred even more damage and it was already beginning to break apart as it started falling into the moon's gravity well. Rothstein had been blinded in the last nuclear explosion and he could barely see were he was heading. The controls were unresponsive and the squawking computer advised him to abandon ship. As he looked around in a daze, he noticed that part of the bridge was on fire and that his crew was either unconscious or dead.

  "Can you take another shot?" Vosanovic asked his wingman as they managed to get back into an attack run once again.

  "Negative. The shockwave messed up the ARCLIGHT system. I can't get it to reactivate." His wingman replied through the nuclear static.

  Vosanovic was tempted to curse yet again but his patience won out this time. "Return to the DropShip for repairs."  He ordered as he headed off to follow the DropShips to the surface so he could relay their locations. So the hostages were saved once again. No matter, they came in full force and they were equipped for this. All they had to do now was take the fight to the moon.

  As his ship began to break apart around him, Ace Rothstein kept thinking about his life. He didn't want to leave his beloved _Space Beagle_. His crew was dead and even if he made it to the surface of the moon, they would hunt him down. He was tired and had had enough. Time to end it.

  "DropShip going down. _Beagle_ going down." Rothstein spoke using the ship's radio as the tearing of the hull began. It wasn't as if anyone friendly would hear it, but he felt he had to say something as the compartment began to depressurize and the temperature began to heat up around him as the re-entry into the moon's atmosphere started.


	13. 11 DropShip Down

  Somewhere cold and distant, the artificial intelligence that characterized the ship's computer hummed to life. Its designers had envisioned a possibility of this sort would arise but to its core processor, the whole situation was nothing more than a jumble of zeros and ones, the binary language of thinking machines. The parameters of its programming allowed it to map out a variety of solutions to the equations that was presented before it; although the possibilities for failure were very real, the unemotional microprocessor merely counted the odds for and against its decisions and thereby acted accordingly. Such was its purpose. It was this cold functionality that gave the Black Widow a chance at life.

  As the _Space Beagle_ began to burn up as it entered into the upper atmosphere of the moon, the _Buccaneer_ class DropShip's main computer began an emergency autopilot program to try to bring it down as safely as possible. Although most of the ship's hull and therefore its heat shield were shredded, most of the damage was situated to the aft of the fuselage, thereby sparing most of the important parts for a successful re-entry into a planet's atmosphere. Since there was no manual response from the bridge controls, the ship's computer automatically understood that the crew was either dead or incapacitated. It therefore assumed control of the ship's helm and engines in an attempt to keep the nose pointing down as it crashed through the upper atmosphere. But even with a calm, automated pilot trying to guide her down, the _Space Beagle_ continued to break apart, as her battered hull just could not take the strain.

  That the gravity continued to be intense as the DropShip hurtled down at several thousand feet per second and the constant vibrations as the computer strained with all its might to keep the ship steady did not give her enough problems, Natasha Kerensky still had other concerns even then. The Black Widow continued her relentless crawl until she had reached the inner cargo bays that were housing her all-black _Warhammer_ BattleMech. It was obvious that the enemy would try to get at them even if they had gotten to the safety of the moon's surface; the only way that they would have a fighting chance was that the _Warhammer_ be deployed on the ground. It was either that or get to the nearest escape pod and lose her 'Mech, it was just something she never even considered.

  As Natasha made it to the control deck and began toggling the switches, she noticed that the automated cargo handling system had no power. The Black Widow cursed as she knew that she would have a painstaking task of manually releasing the 'Mechs after having to physically open the cargo bay doors. With the ship hurtling towards the ground, she would have very little time to execute both. With a dawning reality, Natasha realized that she might have to get to the escape pod after all.

  "_Senorita_ Kerensky!" A voice behind her shouted amid the crashing and tearing up of the hull in the windy stratosphere. The Black Widow turned her head and quickly saw Eladio Rodriguez gesturing at a nearby escape pod. "Come on, we must get out of the ship!" He continued to shout at her through the sonic barrage.

  Natasha knew that together, they might be able to pull it off. "Eladio! We must get the 'Mechs out!" she pleaded at the top of her lungs.

  "No, _Senorita_! We will hit the ground any second, we must go!" Eladio was insistent.

  "Eladio! If we don't get the 'Mechs, we will die on the ground anyway!" Natasha kept at it despite the howling winds that were now permeating the shredded fuselage. "You must help me!"

  She must have touched a nerve with the little man for Eladio crawled over to her. "What do you want me to do?" He asked.

  "I need you to blow the emergency bolts off the cargo doors so I can release the 'Mechs!" Natasha had to shout because of the noise barrage of twisting metal and concussive winds. The Black Widow had always transported her _Warhammer_ in a harnessed cocoon that could be para-dropped in case of emergencies. At this particular moment, she was glad in insisting it be stored in this fashion.

  Eladio nodded meekly. He wanted to get to the escape pod and just get the hell out but his friend spoke the truth. With BattleMechs they would have a chance on the ground. As the little man crawled towards the cargo bay doors, Natasha kept testing the mechanical controls of the cargo hold. No such luck, the power had short-circuited somewhere along the fuselage and she would have to do it manually. Using all her strength and endurance, she began to crawl over to the base of where the two 'Mechs were harnessed as the DropShip kept tossing and turning as it continued its relentless rendezvous with the ground below.

  All of a sudden the ship went into a stall, hurtling the Black Widow upwards as she went into a brief freefall before falling back towards the metal flooring of the hold. Using her skills and agility to the fullest, Natasha managed to land on her feet right beside the manual release controls of John Palatine's _Crusader_ 'Mech. The Black Widow smiled as she noticed that the _Crusader_ was also equipped with a para-drop harness as well; Eladio had definitely done his job as a cargo handler well. Not wasting any more time, she began to twist the emergency lever to release the bolts that was holding the harness in place.

  Eladio had just managed to grab hold of a handrail that prevented him from being tossed around when the DropShip went into a stall but it twisted his wrist as he tried desperately to hang on. Trying his best to ignore the pain, the nervous little crewman of the _Space Beagle_ made it to where the controls were for the explosive bolts that would blow the cargo doors open. As he broke the glass and pushed the red button, a loud explosion ripped across the sides of the cargo bay doors as the explosive bolts were triggered. Within a few seconds, the massive cargo doors were wrenched away by the howling winds and flew off into the stratosphere, leaving a massive opening where they once were. At that moment, Natasha was able to fully twist the emergency lever as the _Crusader's_ metal harness came loose. With gravity doing the rest, the _Crusader_ slid down along the metal rails on the cargo bay floor until it flew out into the planet's atmosphere, its massive parachute unfurling as it was buffeted by strong winds and went out of sight.

  Eladio made a thumbs-up sign as Natasha crawled over to where her _Warhammer_ was positioned. As the Black Widow braced herself on a bulkhead and pulled at the lever, she noticed that it would not budge despite all of her strength. As she grimaced in frustration, Eladio managed to crawl over to where she was and with a faint smile, helped her to pull the emergency lever once more.

  A sound of grinding metal occurred as the _Warhammer's_ harness finally began to slide out as well. As Natasha shouted in triumph, Eladio's grip slipped and he began to tumble out towards the opening of the cargo bay as well.

  "Eladio!" Natasha screamed as she tried to hold onto his arm but it was too late. The little man screamed as the air pressure sucked him out of the cargo bay along with Natasha's _Warhammer _and into the dusty sky. The Black Widow wailed in a mixture of grief and frustration as she saw another friend fly off to his death even as her BattleMech began a controlled descent downwards, its drag-chute unfurling.

  With grim determination, the Black Widow crawled over to where the emergency parachutes were located. She silently vowed that Eladio and the others would not die in vain as she strapped a parasail onto her back before leaping out into the dusty air.

  "Help me," Janice De Llandes shouted at her co-pilot, John Shive, as she struggled with the _Amerigo's_ controls, "keep her steady!"

  Unlike the other DropShip, the _Amerigo_ was not heavily damaged and she was able to retain her structural integrity as she made a successful re-entry into the moon's atmosphere. De Llandes could see that it was a dry, arid world. Desert winds and sand dunes could be seen on the surface; well at least it had an atmosphere and they would not suffocate for lack of one. Both her and Shive struggled with the controls as they tried to slow the massive _Monarch_-class DropShip down for a glider-like landing. Some of the _Amerigo's_ engines were damaged by the two nuclear blasts and so they did not have one hundred percent power on the throttles. But thanks to the _Amerigo's_ aerodyne fuselage and massive heart-shaped delta wings, they were able to glide her most of the way for a controlled landing.

  "Attention," De Llandes spoke tersely using the ship's PA system, "prepare for crash landing."

  The delegates and their support personnel hurriedly strapped on seat belts; some prayed while others bit their lips and sat, stone-like. Major Dominic Durant and Carlos Sanz had both regained consciousness but neither spoke; each had different thoughts on what to do next.

  De Llandes saw through the ship's forward viewports that there was a sandy crater just several kilometers up ahead and down below of them. It would be a perfect place for a crash landing. The sand would cushion the DropShip's fuselage if the landing gears buckled. She pointed the location out to her XO and Shive nodded in agreement. After cutting the power on the throttles, De Llandes eased the ship's nose down towards the crater lip.

  Just as the sandy lip loomed over the viewports, De Llandes pulled back gradually on the wheel as the _Amerigo's_ nose tilted up slightly and activated the landing gears. As they streaked over the crater wall, she felt the ship's rear landing strut hit the lip as they passed over it. A huge dust cloud came up behind her as the massive DropShip shot into the crater. As the landing struts began to skid over the loose sand, making huge dust plumes, De Llandes reversed the thrust of the engines. The _Amerigo_ bounced violently on the sandy base as De Llandes tried to put it into a dead stop before they could hit the opposite side of the crater wall. By now most of the landing struts had buckled and collapsed under the sheer strain and the lower part of the fuselage began to get shredded as well. As the combination of friction and the reversing of the engines began to take effect, the _Amerigo_ slowed down to a crawl until she finally stopped just several meters from the crater wall.

  De Llandes had done it. She had gotten them to a certain degree of safety, now it was up to others to see if they could survive. "All hands," She shouted into the still-functioning PA system, "emergency evacuation!"

  As soon as the DropShip skidded to a halt, Jessica Bradshaw and Karen Udeze began to unbuckle their seatbelts and ran out to where the other stewardesses were. They had both worked together for nearly a decade now and they both were the most senior cabin attendants in the ship. With their emotions on a yo-yo, their training and experience took over as they formed the cabin attendants into teams and began the evacuation of the delegates. Airlocks were blown open by the use of explosive bolts as inflatable emergency chutes formed under the doorsills so that the evacuees would be able to slide down safely to the ground. People began moving out of the airlocks and started jumping onto the chutes.

  "Come on!" Dominic shouted as he beckoned Sanz to follow him.

  "Where are we going?" Sanz shouted back as he ran after Dominic.

  "Weapons room," Dominic said as he started running past people trying to get to the airlocks, "we will need armaments once we're on the ground."

  As both Dominic and Sanz reached the entrance to the weapons room, they found some of the more experienced bodyguards there as well. Although Sergeant Eddie Pryce had it sealed before he left for the ill-fated mission to try to take out the JumpShip terrorist, a few inputs from Dominic's security bypass kit had opened the doors and they all began to arm themselves. Most of the bodyguards only carried pistols, usually hold-out lasers and slug throwers while a prudent and lucky few had sub-machineguns. These small arms however, would be at a severe disadvantage to an enemy with BattleMechs, tanks and other heavy weapons. A few SLDF laser rifles that had been stored there in case of emergencies were rapidly issued out to those who were qualified to use them.

  After retrieving her small autopistol, Chifune Kishikawa tugged at Dominic's arm as he issued out the remaining weapons. "Major Durant, could you please use your security bypass kit to open cargo room 8B?" She asked calmly.

  "Why?" Dominic asked. It was imperative that they get out of the ship immediately. If the premature nuclear explosion did not destroy those aerospace fighters, they might drop another nuke on them.

  Despite the tense situation, Chifune smiled. "There is some gifts stored there that were intended for select people in Tharkad but they may now be useful to us."

  "Alright, lead the way." Dominic said as he followed her to the access way to where the cargo bays were located. A few weeks before, Natasha had told him that the Combine delegation had an Otomo bodyguard with them. He correctly surmised that it was Chifune.

  What the survivors on the ground did not realize was that by plowing into a sandy crater, the _Amerigo_ became half buried by sand and the force of the crash threw up massive clouds of dust into the air which hung around for awhile.

  _Adept_ Dragan Vosanovic could hardly believe the luck of these hostages, first they were able to detach from the JumpShip in a nick of time just before it was destroyed and they were also somehow able to prematurely detonate a nuclear missile before it could get close enough to vaporize them. Because of the damage to the forward sensors on his _Riever_, he was unable to pinpoint the exact location of the _Monarch_ class DropShip when it crashed on the desert surface of the moon. But judging from the new dust clouds that had erupted in a radius of several hundred kilometers, he logged the general area onto his computer before preparing to ascend back into orbit once more. Once he returned back to the DropShip, it would just be a matter of time before deploying the entire unit unto the moon's surface and making a thorough search using grid patterns. Since the hostages had no heavy weapons to speak of and because the moon was uninhabited, it would just be a matter of time before the survivors were rooted out and destroyed. Perhaps they might even find the accursed datadisks among the wreckage.

  As Vosanovic began to increase his throttle as he aimed the _Riever's_ nose towards the heavens, an annoying thought began to enter his mind. What if it wasn't luck that enabled the hostages to survive so far? What if somehow the hostages were rescued and then able to broadcast the contents of the datadisk? The odds were astronomically on the side of the Blakists but what if they were wrong?

  Only one way to find out- deploy the entire unit on the ground and let Blake decide.


	14. 12 Flee ye from the Chaldeans

  The wind was her lover; it cascaded all over her body as Natasha Kerensky rode it downwards towards the desert sands below. The howl of the intense forces that the airstreams carried blew into her ears and nearly made her deaf. It was only a few minutes ago that she jackknifed her body and dove through the desert sky as she heard the loud crash when the _Space Beagle_ finally buckled and fell into pieces towards the ground; she had barely got out. After putting on her goggles that came with the emergency escape kit, The Black Widow readjusted the strap on her parasail and activated it. The rectangular chute opened up above her and began to slow down her fall as she used the specially designed straps to maneuver herself towards the crater where she saw the _Monarch_ class DropShip crash.

  As Dominic Durant came out of the blown-out airlock and onto the DropShip's wing, he started looking around to assess the situation. A number of survivors just stood at the base of the _Amerigo's_ massive fuselage, still stunned and mentally numbed from what had happened in the past fifteen minutes. A few of the more seasoned delegates and bodyguards were helping the DropShip crew take out supplies from the opened cargo hold and he could see that Captain Janice De Llandes was supervising the unloading. Judging from the things that they were taking out it was obvious that the crew was concentrating on items that were essential to the elements of survival: namely food, clothing and shelter. Good, the crew knew what it was doing.

  Looking out over the horizon as he slung the laser rifle over his shoulder, Dominic noticed that while the world that they had crashed upon was capable of supporting life, he did not see any signs of it. The moon was apparently an arid, desert-like planet. Despite the fact that there were still clouds of dust in the air, the relentless heat of the sun began to make him sweat. Dominic could see that from beyond the crater lip, there were barren hills and mountains to their north and endless sand dunes everywhere else. The desert conditions would make their survival all the more harder for a multitude of reasons. The first was that the extreme sunlight and heat would require them all to consume more water than they could carry. The second concern was that there was non-existent vegetation and very few landmarks that meant that they would be hard-pressed to find cover and concealment against the enemy and it also would make land navigation very difficult. Without any cover, even a small force would spot them all very easily and there would be nowhere to hide. The third reason was that no one would ever know they were here: their JumpShip was destroyed and Polyphemos was classified as an uninhabited star system. As he jumped down from the edge of the massive, heart-shaped wing onto the sandy base below, Dominic began to work out a plan of action. Their chances were slim, but at least they still had some time, limited though it was.

  After walking out onto the DropShip wing with a long rectangular wooden box, Chifune Kishikawa knelt down and placed it in front of her. The top was made of polished mahogany with carved Sanskrit writing on it. The Otomo officer knew that the box's contents were originally slated to be a gift for a special bodyguard when they got to the Tharkad Conference but she needed it now. Carefully removing the top of the box, Chifune took out the myomer-enhanced recoil suppressor and began to rapidly assemble the myriad parts. Within less than thirty seconds she had a fully functional Minolta 9000 sniper rifle. There were six fully loaded magazines inside the box and she slapped one in and cocked the bolt. As Chifune began to sight the scope, she noticed a rectangular parachute make its way towards the survivors on the ground. As she focused the rifle to the target, Chifune let out a smile and then safetied the weapon.

  Natasha managed to land on her feet as she disengaged the chute's harness and trotted over to where the stunned survivors were. The Black Widow knew from training and experience that they not only needed to get organized, but they needed to get into the right mental attitude now as well or all would be lost.

  Dominic, Carlos Sanz and Captain Janice De Llandes were joined in with John Palatine, Baroness Mishai Singh, Count Seiji Oshiwara, Madrissa Monika Lee and Duke Rudiger Steiner. With the exception of Palatine, it was a meeting of the heads of the delegation. Natasha walked over to where they were and got a hearty handshake from all with the exception of Rudiger Steiner.

  "Captain Kerensky, I am so glad you made it out alive." Sanz smiled meekly.

  "Thank you, Mr. Sanz," The Black Widow replied, "but we are not out of this yet."

  Dominic patted her on the shoulder. "Any others from the _Beagle_?" He asked.

  "No." The Black Widow replied glumly.

  "Sorry to hear that." Dominic replied.

  "Major Durant, you are the most senior SLDF officer here." Mandrissa Monika Lee said. Her bright green robes had been tousled from the rough landing. "Who or what attacked us?"

  "Milady, I believe that it was the Word Of Blake." Dominic said.

  "Word of Blake? Ridiculous." Duke Rudiger Steiner said. "How could you tell? You didn't even bother to negotiate with them."

  Dominic let the obvious insult go. He had other, more pressing worries. "The enemy DropShip's paint scheme was consistent with WOB militia units. Although their military is similar in appearance to that of ComStar, I see no reason why ComStar would want to attack us. I also checked the comm. recordings that we partially intercepted after the second nuke attack; although there was plenty of static, one of the enemy aerospace pilots quoted Jerome Blake, that is consistent with WOB psychological profiles."

  "Oh really? And why would WOB want to hold us hostage?" Rudiger Steiner was still skeptical. That the Lyran Duke was also testing the current leadership of the survivors was obvious.

  "That, we don't know about yet." Sanz answered.

  "You don't know because you never gave them a chance to negotiate!" Duke Steiner hollered. "If we had complied with their demands, we would be alright now!"

  "You don't know that!" John Palatine shouted back at the surprised Duke. "We are in an uninhabited system, we could be killed here without anyone knowing!" He kept arguing with Rudiger Steiner until Baroness Mishai Singh placed a restraining hand on his forearm that signaled him to be quiet. After realizing his mistake, Palatine walked off to join the crew in unloading more supplies from the crashed ship.

  "Insolent pup." Duke Steiner growled.

  "He may be young, but he had a point." Natasha said as all eyes fell on her. "What matters is we made our decision and now they will be coming in to finish the job. We must get moving as soon as possible."

  "Where to?" Sanz asked. "We are in a desert planet and no chance for any cover. We'll all be spotted in the air and wiped out in seconds." He lamented.

  "We still have time." Natasha answered. "The crash of the _Amerigo_ threw up some dust storms that will partially cover us but not for long. We need to head out towards the mountains; as I came down I noticed that the sides of the peaks were very steep, 'Mechs and vehicles would be hard-pressed to get at us up there."

  "Is that the best choice?" De Llandes asked, hoping there were other, much easier alternatives. It looked like several days walk to just to reach the base of the mountains, not to mention the fact that they probably did not have enough supplies to make it.

  "It's the only choice." The Black Widow answered. "And we need to decide the chain of command right now. I nominate Major Durant as leader."

  "I second that." Sanz said. "All those in favor?"

  Everyone present agreed except Rudiger Steiner. "I cannot understand why Major Durant should be in charge here." He said brusquely.

  "He is the most senior military officer we have." Count Seiji Oshiwara said.

  "My dear Count," Duke Steiner shot back, "I happen to hold the rank of Leutnant-General in the Lyran Alliance Armed Forces, that makes me the most senior officer here." He was making his bid for absolute control now.

  "That's a position for Social Generals, it's not a combat rank." Baroness Singh said. "And since we are all delegates belonging to the Star League, this falls under SLDF command parameters and Major Durant is the most senior SLDF officer we have here."

  "Well, if that is what you decide," Duke Steiner fumed, "then my delegation is withdrawing from this group!"

  "You cannot do that, we must all stick together!" Sanz argued.

  "Watch me!" Duke Steiner shouted back. "I have had enough of the incompetent leadership of this group. It was because of you all that we are in this mess!"

  "Please Duke Steiner," Count Oshiwara pleaded, "we must present a united front. Stay with us."

  "No!" Rudiger Steiner's mind was made up. " I am taking my team with me and anyone else who prefers my leadership over the rest of you fools. We are going to meet up with the Blakists and negotiate a way out of this."

  "Damn you and your ego!" Dominic fumed. He had had enough. "You're gonna get us all killed!"

  "No, staying with you will get us killed, Major. I am going my own way and that is final." With that, Duke Steiner called his entire team of delegates and they began to form up as one group.

  "Let them go, Major." Natasha said as Duke Steiner began asking anyone who wanted to go with him to form up with his team. "Good riddance I say."

  "We could have used some of them." Dominic lamented as he saw that half of the laser rifles he had issued were with the Lyrans. Being the largest contingent compared to all the other factions within the delegations, they would lose a substantial amount of firepower and men. Several crewmembers also sided with Duke Steiner as the Lyrans began to move out towards the south of the crater lip.

  "Stupid, egotistical bastards." De Llandes cursed.

  Sanz and the others turned their heads over to Dominic. They placed all their lives in his hands now. "What do you want us to do now, Major?"

  "Gather up what supplies we can. We are moving out now." Dominic inhaled deeply. "We head north, towards the mountains."

  Chief Moses Malone ran his muscular black arms along the sides of the crates he had just opened. He was a veteran ship's engineer who served alongside Captain De Llandes for more than two decades. The burly black man was sad to walk away from the _Amerigo_; he felt that it was his child since he had invested so much loving care in maintaining it all these years. Hoping no one would see, he placed a small kiss on the outer fuselage before starting off to go with the others. Just as he picked up a large rucksack filled with water canisters, he saw Captain Natasha Kerensky walk towards him.

  "Chief Engineer?" The Black Widow asked.

  "Yes, Ma'am. What can I do for you?" Malone replied.

  "Know anything about ultralight construction?" She asked.

  "Yes, Ma'am."

  "You think that with all the materials we have here, we can construct something that can fly?"

  "Yes, Ma'am."

  "In that case," Natasha said, "I need your help, then."

  As the _Union_ class Dropship made its way towards the moon's upper atmosphere, the internal gravity of the ship was twice normal standard but the men and women inside were in such superb shape that they hardly noticed it. A meeting was being held in the briefing room as they strapped on their cooling vests.

  "What's the status of the other DropShips?" Brandon St. Jamais asked his Executive Officer.

  "Both the _Triumph_ and the _Fury_ have successfully detached from the _Zarathustra_ and are on their way." _Adept_ Amon Goth answered. "They both should make planetfall in six standard hours." The Executive Officer of the unit was a veteran MechWarrior who started out as a member of Blake's Wrath, the Special Forces unit of ComStar and had his trial by fire in the hellish battles of Tukayyid. After the schism, Goth rose up quickly through the ranks of the newly formed Light of Mankind and played a crucial role in the successful Blakist takeover of Terra. Tall, well built and with a shaved head, Goth also had a massive blue tattoo on his face that ancient Maori warriors prized. Needless to say, the others feared and respected him.

  "Have them land in where our site is." Brandon ordered. "Have we got the general coordinates from _Adept_ Vosanovic?"

  "Yes, _Precentor_." Goth said. "Shouldn't we just use tactical nukes against them?"

  "No, I have changed my mind." Brandon said. "We will try to capture them if possible now. I want that datadisk."

  "What if they try to hide it in the planet somewhere?" A female member of the Light of Mankind asked.

  "They will not." Brandon explained. "The datadisk will only be of use to our enemies if they are able to present it in time at the Tharkad Conference. The Capellan agent would probably keep it close by."

  Amon Goth listened to his hand communicator, then looked up at Brandon. "The other DropShips have signaled an affirmative to the coordinates. Should we use paradrops for our 'Mechs?"

  "No." Brandon said. "We will disembark from the _Union_ when it lands, less chances of accidents. Anyway, the delegates won't have anything other than a few side arms with which to fight us with. We will land close to where their suspected crash site would be. I also want the _Triumph_ to unload the helicopter gunships and the aerospotter units first; the sooner we have aerial surveillance up, the better."

  "_Adept_ Cornelius will not like that," Amon Goth said, "he would insist on getting his Purifiers active first, he is obsessed with them."

  "The Purifiers will have to wait. We have a lot of ground to cover as far as spotting those delegates. Once we find them, we fix them." Brandon decided.


	15. 13 Dunes

  By mid-afternoon they had made it into a maze of broken, sand-like canyons. Ancient peoples of Terra called it the _wadi_. They had been walking since morning while carrying massive loads on their shoulders. Some of the older delegates and staff members nearly fainted from the oppressive heat as the relentless sun shone down upon them as they moved across the sand dunes. Particles of fine sand had seeped into every orifice of their bodies, it was one of the characteristics of journeying along a desert; it was like a hot, sandy beach, but with no water in sight.

  It was imperative that they move away from the crash sight as fast as possible while the enemy was still making landing preparations. A rebellious minority, led by Duke Rudiger Steiner, had refused to heed to Dominic's authority and had settled down just south of the crater lip where the crashed DropShip lay. They would wait for the Blakists and try to reason their way out. Dominic hoped that if they weren't killed that they would at least get off the planet and tell everyone what had happened. He knew that it was nothing more than a distant wish that would ever come to pass but he tried to stay optimistic.

  "Okay, everyone, take a rest and some water." Dominic said as the stream of people made it into the shade of the _wadi_. "Make sure you look before you sit. We will be heading off again once the sun sets." Although night was the preferred time to journey in the desert because of the lesser chances of heat-related injuries and dehydration, Dominic and Natasha knew that they needed to get as far away from the crash sight as possible. Now that they had some form of concealment, they would use the broken terrain as a landmark with which to head north.

  Natasha sat beside him, her jumpsuit clinging with perspiration. "I need to talk to you."

  Dominic's hair was matted with sweat as he took a swig of water from a canteen. He was exhausted and had a burning headache but he knew he had to keep sharp. Everyone was depending on him. "What is it?" He asked.

  "I was able to jettison my _Warhammer_ as well as Palatine's _Crusader_ from the _Beagle_." The Black Widow said as she took off her boots and emptied the grains of sand from them.

  "That's good news. Where is it?"

  "That's the problem," Natasha said, "I don't know exactly. They could be anywhere within a 500km radius."

  Dominic closed his eyes as the pounding of his brain continued. He felt like his forehead was about to burst. "So now what?" He asked.

  "I have a tracking beacon," Natasha said as she pulled out a palm-sized electronic device, "but I'll need to get within 200km for it to activate."

  "Do you have a plan?"

  "Yes." The Black Widow answered as she put her boots back on. "Chief Malone has got enough materials to make an ultralight. I'll need to get it constructed before you get going."

  "Captain," Dominic opened his eyes and looked straight at her, "I'm sorry for getting you in this. If it wasn't for me, you would still be alright in New Avalon."

  "Its okay." Natasha said. "If anything, it was probably my presence here that brought this on. I have bad luck, remember?"

  Despite his parched throat, Dominic laughed hoarsely. The joke was silly but it got rid of his stress. "Okay then. We will be following this _wadi_ all the way up north until it either ends or we get to the mountains. I'm sure once you get to your 'Mech you should have no problem tracking us down. I'll give you my comm. frequency so you could patch in as soon as you get to your _Warhammer_."  He acted like it was going to succeed but he knew it was nearly impossible and this would be the last time he would see her.

  "Thanks, Major." The Black Widow smiled faintly as she got up. "See you soon." She said as she walked over to where Malone was so that they could begin construction of the glider.

  Dominic nodded and said a silent goodbye as he tucked his head between his knees.

  Mandrissa Monika Lee tried to get some rest as she lay in the collapsible stretcher. She was approaching sixty years of age and despite all of her efforts, she fainted within two hours of their trek and had to be carried the rest of the way. The intense heat literally sapped her strength and despite her spirit, her flesh had weakened. That she declined to drink while making the hike only added to her complications for it further dehydrated her body. It was then that she started developing severe cramps on her legs and then her subsequent collapse. Dominic quickly surmised that it was from heat exhaustion and ordered her carried the rest of the way as well as insisting that she drink her full share of water.

  As she drifted in and out of consciousness beneath the shade of the canyon walls, Monika Lee noticed that someone was sitting beside her, taking sips from a water bottle.

  "Am I bothering you, Mandrissa?" It was Count Seiji Oshiwara, official delegate of the Draconis Combine. His kimono robes were drenched in sweat as the perspiration cast a silver-like sheen over his bald scalp.

  Lee propped herself up on one elbow as she faced him. Her cramps were less severe now that she was rehydrating. "Not at all, Oshiwara-san. I assume that by you being here, you wish to discuss something?"

  "You are perceptive as always, Mandrissa." Oshiwara said as he placed the half-empty water bottle between his legs as he sat on the sand. "I find it curious that WOB would want to kill a few unimportant delegates such as we."

  "Apparently WOB considers us as much more important than we would consider ourselves." Lee mused.

  "And that begs the question, what do they find important about us?"

  "Any conclusions so far, Oshiwara-san?" Lee asked. He had her full attention now.

  "A few, but nothing more than idle speculation. Firstly, it seems that all the Great Houses are represented here except for one."

  "The Free Worlds League? I was told that all their required personnel are already in Tharkad."

  "How convenient. Seems that WOB will not be able to 'accidentally' cause an incident with their host faction, unlike us."

  "Do you honestly think that WOB would attempt to kill us all?" Lee asked.

  "If I had thought otherwise," Oshiwara said, "I would have cast my lot with Duke Steiner. It so happens that the Blakists are after something that we seem to have. What that thing is, I have no idea. But from what has happened so far, one factor is certain- WOB will go to any lengths to get it." He added.

  "Then the answer may very well lie with one of us here." Lee said. "The Blakists either wants someone or something."

  "Correct. If we are to know what it is, then we could have a more focused course of action." Oshiwara said. "I have told you this because I would like to work with you to find out what it is that WOB wants so badly. If we could work together, we may find the answer to the riddle."

  "Very well. It is agreed." Lee said.

  "Get some rest for now, Mandrissa." Oshiwara said as he stood up and dusted the sand from his kimono. "We will need your mind to be sharp when the time comes."

  Night had at last fallen as _Adept_ Jason Cornelius walked down the landing ramp of the _Fury_ class DropShip and onto the desert sand. He could see the men readying their equipment as he started walking over to a prefabricated command bunker situated between the three DropShips. Technicians were hurriedly unpacking crates of ordnance in order to get their war machines active as quickly as possible. As he walked along, Cornelius noticed just how peaceful the desert landscape could be; the night was crystal clear as the gas giant loomed overhead, ironically acting as moonlight for its own moon.

  Because _Precentor_ St. Jamais had taken the 'Mech contingent for a light reconnaissance to try to find the delegates, Cornelius was now the senior officer in charge. His subordinates knew this but nevertheless they had great respect for he was, like Amon Goth, both a veteran of Tukayyid and Operation Odysseus. Despite his close-cropped hair nearly turning gray and his quiet demeanor was somewhat distracting, he was still a very deadly killer.

  Passing through the heavily armed guards at the front, he ventured inside the bunker. Cornelius could see a number of lesser-ranked _Adepts_ pouring over maps and setting up communications gear. So far the situation was good, they were unloading well ahead of schedule.

  A white-robed acolyte handed him some readiness reports. "Our BattleMechs have not spotted anything as of yet, _Adept_ Cornelius." She said.

  "Very well," Cornelius replied, "what of the rest of our forces?"

  "I am afraid we are stretched somewhat thin in regards to getting to full deployment, sir. Our engineers are setting up sensors along our perimeter while half our technicians are spray painting new desert camouflage on our equipment." The acolyte explained.

  Cornelius frowned. Everyone was practically working double shifts and completely exhausted. The best way for an optimum deployment would be to give everyone a week to acclimatize to the arid conditions of the moon's desert surface but he knew they would not have that time. The delegates needed to be found as soon as possible. "What of air support?" He asked.

  "We are putting priority on that, _Adept_ Cornelius." She said. "We have begun deploying the Pintos first because we can easily re-assemble the rotors. Once they are all operational, we will continue on with the Ferrets."

  "Blake's thanks be to you." Cornelius said as he walked out of the bunker. As he started to head back to the DropShip, he noticed that a group of technicians were busy unpacking a number of items from a crate. Walking over to observe, Cornelius noted that it looked like a miniature, propeller-driven airplane of some sort.

  "What is this?" Cornelius asked the most senior technician.

  "This is the new Gnat remote-controlled spotter plane, _Adept_ Cornelius." _Adept_ Achmed Faud replied. It looked like a smaller version of the Boomerang spotter plane, albeit without a cockpit.

  "Ah, yes. I was briefed about this." Cornelius said. "When will it be ready?"

  "Give us another three hours, _Adept_." Faud said.

  "If it would help, then I shall say a prayer to blessed Blake for you." Cornelius smiled as he started to walk away.

  True to Faud's word, in less than three hours the first Gnat was taxiing down a prefabricated runway. An hour prior to that, the first Pinto attack helicopter had successfully lifted off for a shakedown flight. Once all was well, the helicopters would return and immediately start loading their weapons.


	16. 14 Consequentials

  As the sun dawned over the desert horizon, a small, needle-like aircraft continued on its present course. Its fuselage measured no more than a foot across, the plane's wingspan was designed to be as large as possible to give it increased lift in order to save on fuel. The nose did not contain a pilot's cockpit but rather several telescopic cameras that tied into a central computer. Being completely automated, the Gnat, as it was called, could be controlled by technicians located safely behind the front lines. The sensors on the nose tip were extremely sensitive to motion and heat but the arid conditions of the moon's surface prevented the computer from using these particular abilities. The technician who controlled it relied upon visual sighting instead.

  _Adept_ Achmed Faud was beginning to doze off as he stared at the display showing the Gnat's remote cameras. He had been awake for over twenty-four hours as his team struggled to get the unit's heavy equipment operational as fast as possible. While many in his group complained about the horrid conditions of the desert, Faud felt like he had come home. Born as the second child of an Azami family that had emigrated back to Terra, Faud felt a kinship to the desert; he knew that his ancestors had traversed the great sand seas of ancient Arabia as traders and warriors of old. And it was this sense of the familiar that kept him in good spirits, despite his exhaustion.

  As Faud opened his eyes once more after a heavy feeling at the back of his head, the WOB technician instantly went awake as he noticed a number of things that came across his monitor. As he used the remote-controlled joystick to switch the Gnat to manual control in order to get a closer look, he knew something was up. As the lip of a crater came into view, he noticed a partially buried delta wing of the _Monarch_ class DropShip that had crashed the day before. It was the _Amerigo_, no doubt about it.

  Quickly alerting operational command, Faud radioed in the coordinates to the units that were close by. Now that they found them, they would fix them.

  Duke Rudiger Steiner was already awake when his aide brought over a bottle of tepid water for him to drink. Despite the shade that the crater wall offered, it was still quite hot and he was sweating profusely. Steiner's white trousers had been stained to a monochrome color of sand. His team of Lyran delegates had rebelled just the day before against the authority of Major Dominic Durant when the SLDF intelligence officer ordered them to move off towards the mountains. Steiner thought that it was ridiculous to try to resist the well-armed Blakists when all they had to do was negotiate. He felt that WOB held all the cards and so that meant that he had to cooperate to a certain degree. While the entire Lyran delegation remained loyal to him for he had hand-picked them prior to the beginning of the journey from New Avalon, a few others from the other delegations felt that a peaceful way was the best solution and so came over to his side as well.

  Steiner stood up and walked over to where his bodyguards where when someone shouted that they had spotted an aircraft over the southern horizon. Taking out his rangefinder binoculars, Steiner immediately began scanning the surrounding sky for any signs.

  Sure enough, he saw several helicopters in the distance, approaching rapidly. Although they had khaki streaks painted all along their fuselages, he could tell that the helicopters belonged to WOB because of the white base paint as well as the emblem of a massive, downward-pointing broadsword along their sides and rudders. Steiner's eyes opened wider as the helicopters multiplied into about a half-dozen as they came in formation. "What type are they?" He asked one of the bodyguards as he continued to observe with the binoculars.

  "Looks like Pintos and Ferrets." One of the Lyran bodyguards who also observed with his own pair of rangefinder binoculars said. The Ferret was considered to be a light helicopter suitable for scouting and reconnaissance while the much larger and well-armed Pinto was classified as an attack helicopter, capable of offensive operations as well as being able to transport infantry.

  Steiner had a momentary fright, as a boy he was scared of flying bugs. As the fleet of helicopters approached, they eerily seemed to resemble a swarm of giant flying insects. He felt that he had to give them a sign that they did not want to fight as he began to wave with both arms at the closest one.

  The pilot of the lead Ferret activated his comm. switch. "This is Spade-One, we have established visual contact with the delegates, over."

  "Stand by, Spade-One, we are nearly there." A terse voice replied over the comm. link.

  Several people began to form as a crowd while they began to cheer their apparent rescuers. As Steiner began to smile and walked over to join the others, a bodyguard tugged at his arm. "This might not be safe, sir." The guard said.

  Duke Steiner nodded glumly as he and his bodyguards began to move back towards the crater lip just in case they needed to make a run for cover. As they slowly backed away, Steiner noticed someone in the crowd let out a gasp as the woman pointed to a rise on a nearby sand dune.

  The crowds immediately stopped cheering when they saw six BattleMechs, their massive white and khaki-streaked hulks glinting in the morning sun, traverse the sand dune in front of them. A 70-ton _Shootist_ and a 75-ton _Toyama_, both heavy 'Mechs, ventured out from the formation and stopped right in front of the now silent crowd, just less than a dozen meters away.

  _Acolyte_ Rogelio Chavez opened the bay door of the Pinto helicopter as he leaned out as far as his safety harness could reach. He could see the hapless crowd below as the helicopter that he was riding in circled above. Though there were many new recruits into the unit, Chavez was not one of them. As soon as he joined the Blakist militia nearly a decade ago, he had been singled out for his impressive marksmanship skills and was invited to join the WOB Special Forces units nicknamed the Light of Mankind. In Operation Odysseus he had racked up nearly one hundred kills as a sniper against the heretical Com Guard units defending the birthplace of humanity.

  Cocking the bolt of the 7.62mm assault rifle in place, Chavez adjusted the scope he had mounted on it until he had the proper range. Unlike the other, newer infantrymen, Chavez and the other LOM veterans stood out because of the little things. LOM operators tended to shy away from the white combat headgear that the standard WOB infantrymen wore and instead preferred hockey helmets to prevent their heads from bumping in tight spaces. Some LOM operators wore no helmets at all, preferring to wear the _kheffiyah_, the ancient Arabic headscarf to shield them from the heat and dust of the desert. Chavez and his like also wore knee and elbow pads to protect their joints when they had to stay low on the ground and every operator was never without their trusty sunglasses. That they had their own armorer who supplied them with custom weapons only added to their mystique as the younger infantrymen looked up to them as models on how a defender of Blake should be.

  As the crowd began to grow uneasy from the lack of response that the BattleMechs in front of them gave, some began to shout as to what the purpose of their previous attack was about while others begged to be taken off and rescued from the hostile sands of the desert. It seemed that the crowd lacked unity and direction. All fell silent immediately when the _Toyama's_ PA system activated.

  "By Blake's will," The unemotional voice from the _Toyama_ 'Mech reverberated across the crater, "all heretics shall burn in the fires of their own making." With that, the _Toyama's_ weapon pods began to traverse the stunned crowd.

  People began screaming, as some stayed rooted on the spot in sheer terror while others began scrambling for cover as the BattleMechs began to open fire at the crowd. Due to the fact that the large-bore weapons that the 'Mechs used were designed to destroy heavy vehicles like themselves, the massive autocannon shells and large lasers tore through the crowd like a hot knife through butter. Brandon smiled gleefully as people were virtually torn apart as his LB-X autocannon flechettes ripped into them, sending pieces of body parts and blood sprays into the air. Goth vaporized a number of fleeing hostages using his _Shootist's_ lasers, leaving only smoking piles of melted flesh on the sandy ground.

  "Let's get out of here!" Duke Steiner shouted to his closest bodyguards as he began scrambling for cover. The only possible avenue of escape was the open desert but Steiner knew they would be easily caught by the much faster BattleMechs so he opted instead to run for the relative safety of the crashed DropShip.

   Chavez stayed stone-faced as he shot down fleeing delegates that were missed by the BattleMechs; it was all so easy that it resembled a virtual simulation that he had trained in countless times. The LOM operator wanted to keep his skills sharp so instead of going for the chest wound, he liked to shoot them in either the neck or head. Several hostages went down, blood spurting from opened jugulars or punctured skulls as Chavez kept honing his lethal abilities.

  Several hostages tried to run underneath the advancing 'Mechs, hoping that they would be missed by the gargantuan war-machines and perhaps making their way to safety. A number of lighter 'Mechs spotted them and stomped on a few, leaving piles of splattered flesh and blood onto the sands. Several Pinto and Ferret choppers fanned out to catch up to the ones that the BattleMechs missed, either raking them with lasers and machineguns or letting the LOM snipers on board do their thing, depending on their angles of attack.

  Rudiger Steiner and his small team nearly made it to the safety of the DropShip wreck but they were intercepted by a 40-ton _Initiate_ 'Mech that stood in their way. A number of bodyguards that felt there was no other way out fired their small arms at the massive BattleMech in sheer desperation but the damage was superficial, if any.

  "We give up!" Rudiger Steiner shouted at the top of his lungs as he tried to restrain some of his suicidal men. "Don't fire! We want to talk!" He cried.

  The _Initiate_ fired a salvo of short-ranged missiles that narrowly missed Rudiger Steiner and his men as it landed near an opened fuel line that Dominic's team had used the day before. The resulting explosion of burning fuel engulfed Duke Steiner and his remaining bodyguards and they writhed in the sand, their bodies becoming human bonfires.

  "Don't shoot, brothers," Precentor Brandon St. Jamais spoke over his 'Mech's comm. link, "let them burn!"

  Later that afternoon, a small glider made its way across the clear desert sky.

  Natasha Kerensky grimaced as she tried to adjust her position but it was no use, she was lying prone inside the glider's tiny fuselage; there was not enough room to get comfortable. Since late evening, she had managed to get an ultralight constructed and from sheer luck, get it airborne. It was a minor miracle for the Black Widow had virtually no experience in piloting aircraft; from what she heard, the flying wasn't hard- it was the landing that would be the ultimate test of her luck. She had been aloft all day, flying across the desert sky as she desperately searched for the jettisoned BattleMechs.

  As she tried to wriggle her knees because of the cramps that were starting to bother her, her left shin bumped into a water canister that bruised it. Natasha frowned; the glider needed to be as light as possible so that meant that she could only take a few items with her. Dominic had offered her a full day's supply of water but the Black Widow knew she would have been too heavy to lift off had she accepted it. Although the relentless sun also began to tan her forward facing head and shoulders, the miniature solar panels on the top of the wings needed it to help power the small, jury-rigged propeller behind the fuselage.

  Looking at the barren landscape of sand dunes below, Natasha began to despair as her tracking unit continually failed to activate. Had she jettisoned the 'Mechs even farther than what she had estimated? Did the BattleMechs actually make it on the ground in one piece or did the enemy already recover them?

  From above she could see dust devils forming in the sand as the desert winds began to build up in intensity. In just a few minutes, the entire ground beneath her swirled in a haze of khaki and brown as a great dust storm began to reshape the patterns of the sands below. It was said that sandstorms and deserts formed a vicious cycle due to the fact that clouds of swirling dust would prevent rains by choking rain clouds. The ancient Arabs called these storms the _Sherji_, a desolate wind of sand and dust that covered everything in its path.

  Wiping the sweat off her brow, Natasha contemplated in giving up the 'Mechs for lost just as her electronic tracking unit began to squawk. The Black Widow started to smile as she began steering the ultralight towards where the signal was beeping. Another few hours in the air and she would be with her _Warhammer_ again, she reckoned.

  _Acolyte_ Chavez slapped the last magazine into his assault rifle as the Pinto that he was riding in headed back towards the grounded WOB DropShips that served as their base camp. He had kept the bay door open to help with the ventilation because of the intense heat. Earlier that day they had hunted down the hostages that were located in the crater lip but after a thorough investigation, it was found that the bulk of the delegates had left the crash site and proceeded towards the mountains. Chavez frowned as he scanned the sky using his sniper scope; he wanted this mission wrapped up quickly for he knew they had other assignments down the line.

  Just as he was about to put down the scope so that he could get a swig of water, Chavez noticed a reflective glint in the sky. Quickly adjusting the magnification of his scope, he noticed that it was a light aircraft.

  As he opened the cockpit door, Chavez tapped the lead pilot of the helicopter on the shoulder. "There! Over there! Enemy aircraft!" He shouted as he pointed to the east.

  "I see it, brother. We still have some time to make a few passes; get into position." The pilot told the LOM sniper as Chavez went back to his spot and began to tighten up his safety harness.

  As the pilot increased power, the Pinto began to bear down on the glider as it sped on. As soon as it was less than a hundred yards away, the pilot began to activate the weapons on the helicopter. Although the Longbow missile system was exhausted from the previous encounter with the hostages, they still had an array of three medium lasers with which to blow the ultralight out of the sky. The gunner however, was all too eager to shoot the glider down and his first laser shot went wide.

  Natasha instantly turned her head when she saw a beam of red light pass by the side of her cockpit. Using the rear mirror that she had mounted in cases like these, Natasha made a silent curse as she saw a Pinto attack helicopter directly behind her. The Black Widow knew that her aircraft was not a fighter, the glider could not pull loops nor could it do Immelman turns because it lacked both the speed and the maneuverability. For all intents and purposes, she was a sitting duck in the air. In a split second, she realized that she had only one choice if she wanted a chance to survive, and it wasn't a very promising one.

  The Pinto pilot grimaced as the glider in front of them went into a steep dive. He quickly pushed on his control stick as the Pinto followed it downwards towards the swirling clouds of dust. The helicopter pilot realized that the glider was trying to stay low, hopefully losing them while it tried to maneuver between the vortexes of sand near the desert floor. It was a highly dangerous maneuver but there was a chance the glider pilot might pull it off.

  Chavez put the _kheffiyah _over his nostrils and mouth as the dust began to seep inside the opened bay doors of the Pinto. The LOM sniper did not want to use the clear Polycarbonate goggles that he regularly carried because it got in the way of the scope. As he leaned out and tried to zero in on the glider, he noticed that it was twisting and jinxing rapidly to try to shake off the pursuing chopper as it maneuvered in between columns of swirling sand just a few dozen meters from the ground. Although the dust kept interfering with his sights and was irritating the hell out of his eyes, Chavez kept at it; all he needed was one clear shot.

  Natasha struggled with the controls of the glider as the fragile wings began to buckle from the force of the dust storms buffeting her flimsy aircraft. As she kept alternating between looking in front of her and the mirror that served as her rear sight, she nearly lost control a couple of times which meant that she would have crashed.

  "My lasers are malfunctioning!" The Pinto gunner said as an alarm on his heads-up display indicated that the sand from the dust storm had interfered with the focusing lenses in the laser barrels.

  "Blake's hell!" The Pinto pilot cursed. "Sniper! It's up to you!" He called out to Chavez as he maneuvered to the proper angle so that the LOM operative could get a clear shot.

  Chavez zeroed in on the back of the glider and fired. His single shot hit the back of the glider's rear propeller and the 7.62mm APHE slug passed through the paper-thin fuselage and ruptured a fuel line. Sparks from the jury-rigged, unreliable engine instantly ignited the splattering fuel. As the scorching heat and smoke began to fill up the back of the ultralight's fuselage, Natasha screamed as the lower part of her military trousers caught fire. The Black Widow reached out for the water bottle and poured it on her legs to extinguish the fire but she lost control of the aircraft almost instantly. Within a matter of seconds, the glider's left wing broke off from the force of the _Sherji_ and the aircraft plowed into the huge swirling column of sand, disappearing from sight.

  For a few minutes the Pinto maneuvered around the swirling sandstorm to see if the glider made it out. After what seemed like an eternity, the dust clouds began to dissipate and all that could be seen was the barren desert floor.

  "It's gone," the Pinto pilot announced, "we are returning to base."

  Chavez kept trying to scan the ground using his scope and he noticed a few pieces of the glider's wings on the ground. Looked like they got it. He fell back into the cargo hold and wearily sat down onto the metallic floor as the helicopter turned and headed back to base.

  It had been a long day and he was looking forward to a hot shower, food, rest and prayers of thanks to Blake for a job well done.


	17. 15 Inner Dark

  Brandon St. Jamais was frustrated now. Thoughts on hindsight and mental recriminations raced across his head as he continued to sweat because of his 'Mech reactor's oppressive heat. The desert sun was also complicating matters, taxing the _Toyama's_ heat sinks to the maximum. His cooling vest was stuck to his chest as the perspiration rolled down his face and neck like a boiling waterfall. Although he felt that he was going to kill the delegates in the end, he should have captured the small group who surrendered to him near the DropShip crash sight. He could have gleaned information from them as to where the others were. As it so happened, his eagerness got the better of him when he ordered his unit to open fire on the hapless men and women and then joined in the frenzied bloodlust as well.

  As he eased the 75-ton _Toyama_ near a stretch of broken terrain, St. Jamais now wished he could have gotten them all in one sweep, recover the datadisk and be back on their way to Terra. As his aggravation boiled up within him, his BattleMech kicked over some dried canyon walls as he lashed out in frustration. A 50-ton _Starslayer_ medium 'Mech ventured out from the other side of the _wadi_ as the _Toyama_ started trudging its way towards the north, smashing through the sand-carved canyons like a little child stepping on sand castles in the beach.

  "I have swept the area to the north, _Precentor_." The _Starslayer_ pilot said over the comm. frequency. "All clear, we can move on to the next search grid now."

  "Go ahead," St. Jamais acknowledged, "be there in a bit." As his annoyance became even more acute, St. Jamais targeted a stretch of broken sand walls but he quickly hesitated at the last minute until his anger subsided. The weapons fire would additionally tax his 'Mech's heat sinks and he would not risk that just for the sake of letting off steam. Perhaps he needed to watch his private trivids so that he would feel better once he got back to the base camp.

  As the _Toyama_ turned and headed off over a sand dune to rendezvous with the rest of its unit, Dominic Durant let out a sigh of relief. The entire group of surviving delegates had hurriedly camouflaged themselves when they saw a number of WOB 'Mechs venture into the area that they were resting in and began a sweep to pinpoint if they were there. It was nothing short of a miracle that no one got accidentally stepped on by the massive BattleMechs as they trudged through where they were all hiding. Several close shaves happened when a gigantic 'Mech foot narrowly missed squishing Carlos Sanz by a matter of a few meters as it strode nearby.

  As Durant looked around him, he could see everyone lying prone on the ground, using the dried canyon walls as cover. At least the 'Mechs that were in the area did not use active probes or the chance of spotting them would have increased dramatically. Several delegates placed sand-covered blankets over their bodies as an extra way to conceal themselves. After what seemed to be an eternity, Carlos Sanz got up and walked over to where Durant was and sat down beside him. Several others had begun to ease up after the close shave and tried resting out the day once again, their hands and lips twitching considerably as the adrenaline rush left their system.

  "Another close call." Sanz said as he partially wiped the dust from his forehead. "How long can we keep this up?" He asked.

  "As long as possible." Dominic said. "Another night of traveling and we should be close to the base of the mountains."

  "I wonder," Sanz mused, "if we made the wrong decision."

  "To resist?" Dominic said. "For better or for worse, we did it. The Blakists want something from us and I am going to find out what it is as soon as we get to the high ground."

  "What are our chances, Major?"

  "To be honest, very slim." Dominic answered.

  "What about Captain Kerensky? Surely once she gets her 'Mech, the odds would be better, eh?" Sanz was trying to see the positive side of things and desperately looking for support of any kind.

  "There is a good chance she is probably dead by now." Dominic said softly.

  "What?" Sanz was aghast. "What makes you say that?"

  "If the Blakists didn't get her, then the desert probably would have." Dominic said. "Seems we are up against a Level III WOB unit. That means they are battalion-sized, with air and infantry support; the Blakists favor combined-arms units. They seem to have no qualms about using nuclear weapons against us and it is only blind luck that has saved us so far. We are trapped like a rat in a cage."

  Sanz looked out into the distance. The desert sky was a clear bright blue, if it weren't for these circumstances, he might have enjoyed this world. Durant was right; sooner or later they would be found and dealt with. There was no one to help them and the enemy had overwhelming firepower and numbers. "Then why are we still resisting?" Sanz asked incredulously.

  "Because we got nothing better to do." Dominic said as he got up and brushed sand from his trousers. "If you'll excuse me, Mr. Sanz, I have to check up on the others." With that, the SLDF Intelligence officer walked away.

  The winds kept howling across the dunes, spreading a harsh blast of hot, dusty air while the sun cast its rays relentlessly unto the burning sands as the lone figure walked across the endless oceans of dust and desolation.

  It must have been high afternoon, but she was no longer even sure of that. Her thoughts were in a daze as the aches and pains reverberated all over her bruised, battered body. The blood on her forehead mixed with sweat had finally dried and matted her tousled red hair. Her thoughts could barely coalesce into proper coherence as she stumbled on, ever forward. Her subconscious was willing her on, it was almost as if her conditioning took over despite the fact that she could no longer focus her concentration on anything other than to keep moving forward. But as to what lay in front of her, she couldn't think about what it was, the pain and thirst was taking up too much of herself.

  As a few abstract thoughts began to manifest itself unto her brain, she wondered how many days had passed since her glider crashed while the enemy was attacking it. The recollections were a blur as she stumbled on the leeward side of a sand dune and nearly toppled over, but she regained her balance just in time and kept going. All that she could remember was that when she woke up, she was lying in a trough of sand, pieces of wreckage all around her. While her injuries were minor, she had lost all of her possessions including the life-giving water canisters. All she could remember now was that she was searching for something out in the desert.

  At least she knew her name was Natasha and that she had recollections of being instructed on how to survive in desert environments. But as to who her teachers were, she was no longer sure; was it part of her previous life as a Clan warrior or was it when she was reincarnated to become an assassin for House Amaris? Her life was a ball of confusion and she could no longer differentiate between either of her memories. But the riddle of the origins in her mental thoughts could no longer be contemplated as she kept focusing on the problems at hand- how to survive in a dangerous and demanding environment.

  Natasha knew for a fact that she should not be traveling during daylight, the chances for heat-related injuries were multiplying every minute that she was exposed to the scorching heat. But the Black Widow also knew that there was precious little time to reach her goal of finding her BattleMech and that impulse overrode any qualms about traveling through the heat of the day. The slight cramping on her legs, the cold, clammy skin and the darkened urine was already a clear indication that she was severely dehydrated and would eventually suffer heatstroke if she kept at it.

  As she kept trudging along, she knew from memory that the adult body needed at least two to three liters of water a day; if one lost over fifteen percent of one's body fluids, death would surely occur. That she had already stopped sweating and was experiencing dizziness combined with nausea was a clear sign of heat exhaustion.

  The Black Widow contemplated just giving up as she traversed another fifteen-foot tall dune as the scorching sands burned through her boots and seared her very soul. Just as she was about to give up and just lie onto the sand to die, she noticed that there seemed to be a rock outcropping several kilometers ahead. Hoping that it was closer than she thought, she gathered her remaining reserves of willpower and began trudging her way towards it. If she could just rest for a few hours, maybe she could find the energy to keep going.

  After what seemed like an eternity, Natasha was able to make it to the jutting rocks. As she began to walk around it, hoping there was a small crevasse within the rock formation that she could crawl into, she almost fell over as her aching knees nearly buckled. As she tried propping herself up, she noticed a small crack in between two sand-colored boulders. As Natasha wriggled her way into it, she began to doze off into merciful unconsciousness as the coolness of the rock shade started to calm down her dying body.

  A sharp pain on her hand immediately jolted her awake as she could feel a number of crawling things moving along her exposed forearms. Quickly scrambling out, Natasha moaned as she stared at her swollen palm. Hurriedly looking around, she noticed that the rock that she tried to get into had a nest of black widow spiders. She had apparently disturbed them and paid the price for it. As the pain of the venom's neurotoxin began to overwhelm her, Natasha numbly sat down onto a burning slab of rock and sighed through her broken, parched lips. She cursed herself for being careless, she was taught to always visually inspect an area before resting or lying down on it. It was quite incredulous to her as well that a seemingly uninhabited moon was teeming with life- and Terran life at that. Those last thoughts finally overwhelmed her and she fainted.

  "Natasha." A voice from beyond taunted her.

  "Natasha, I know you are awake." The voice continued. "Get up."

  As the Black Widow opened her eyes and jolted up, she noticed that she was still lying on the rock slab in the middle of the desert. The sun was beginning to set as dusk began. Her right hand had swollen to the size of a melon as the pain continued to seep through her but she needed to be alert when she realized that she wasn't alone. As she desperately looked around she saw no one. Was she dreaming? How long was she unconscious?

  "Over here." The voice commanded as it staggered her with its clarity and power.

  Quickly turning around, she noticed that it looked like a hunched figure wearing a black robe, sitting on a rock. Peering closer, Natasha could see that it resembled an emaciated old man. The ancient one gave her a hissing laugh as he placed his craggy, withered palm out towards her in a gesture of peace.

  "Who are you?" Natasha asked hoarsely. She tried to reach for her pistol but realized that she had lost it days before. After surmising that he would have killed her easily while she slept, Natasha decided not to provoke him.

  "Just an old traveler of the desert." The old man replied.

  "How did you get here? You are not with the Blakists and neither are you with the delegation." Natasha said softly. As night began to seep in, the temperature began to drop rapidly; the desert was a mixture of extremes.

  "I have been here for a long, long time." The old man smiled with his crooked teeth and blackened gums.

  "I must be dreaming." The Black Widow groaned. This desert moon was supposedly incapable of supporting life.

  "Dreaming?" The old man laughed. His head was hairless and full of wrinkles that accentuated his vulture-like visage. "Look at your swollen hand. Could you dream of the black widow's venom seeping through your body? Is the pain but a delusion as well? Isn't it ironic that your own namesake has given you a sign?"

  Natasha looked at her hand. The palm was discolored but the pain had somewhat subsided. Was the old man a delirium brought on by the spider's venom? If she was experiencing mental confusion then it was a sure sign of heat stroke. If she did not get rehydrated soon, she knew she would die.

  "How could this be?" she asked. "Black widow spiders and now you. How?"

  "Perhaps a tramp freighter that crashed centuries ago might have brought some unexpected stowaways that eventually formed an ecosystem, perhaps? Who knows?" The old man said as he stared out into the desert night. "But the one thing I can say about living creatures is their survivability. Even in the harshest conditions, life finds a way to adapt."

  "How did you know my name?" the Black Widow asked. Her mind now seemed strangely clear, almost lucid. Was this the prior moment before the onset of death? Was she already dead? Did the spider's neurotoxin affect her mind somehow?

  "The desert speaks to me." The old man laughed. "She is my wife, my lover, my mother, my provider. I know all of her secrets. When one such as you makes a trek across her, she tells me everything there is to know about you."

  "You are a mirage- a hallucination. You are not real." Natasha said softly.

  "Perhaps I am nothing more than a figment of your imagination just as you are about to cross the river Styx and into the underworld." The old man made another deep, throaty laugh. "Whatever the case, I am here. And you will not be rid of me."

  "Leave me alone." Natasha said as she slumped back down onto the hard stone slab. "If I am going to die, let me die in peace."

  "But what of your friends?" He taunted her with a bony finger. "Will you let them die as well?"

  "They will die anyway." Natasha lamented. "I am cursed."

  "Ah, I see. You finally give in to your dark fate. If that is the case, then why struggle? Why care for them when they will die anyway? Is this what you felt when Kieran died in your arms? Or when you killed your own lover?"

  "Shut up. Leave me alone." She said softly. "You are a demon inside of me."

  "If I am that, then you can't be rid of me." The old man laughed yet again. "You have been nothing more than a ghost in a shell. How pathetic, one with skills such as yours should never give up the fight."

  "Why struggle?" Natasha wailed softly. Her body was extremely dehydrated that no tears came out of her swollen eyes.  "Everything I have done has come to nothing."

  "How weak you are." The old man said with disgust. "The reincarnation of one of the greatest MechWarriors in history is about to die like a mangy dog in the desert. What a waste."

  "She died in battle," Natasha lamented about the fate of her original self, "and her love was killed as well. What difference does it make what I do now?"

  "Had she been a simple woman, would her glories have lived on long after her death? Had she lived as a mother of children with a happy life, had the gods not destroyed her and laid her in dust, would any have sung of her songs or told of her tales in stories that men will listen to for all eternity?"

  "You are asking me to fight? And for what?" Natasha was weary of it all. "Immortality? We will all be dead and nothing will change. That is war."

  "'_The wise ones will fly from war'_, that is true." The old man of the desert said as he quoted Euripides. "'_But if war comes, to die well is to win the victor's crown_.'"

  "Just stop it. Stop tormenting me. I just want you to leave. Please."

  "What you want? What you want? It was never about what you wanted." The old man said.

  "What are you talking about?" Natasha said.

  "You know what I am talking about." The old man said as he got up and began to walk out into the barren dunes.

  "Wait!" Natasha cried hoarsely as she tried to get up after him. As she tried to pull herself up, her legs felt weak and she fell back unto the stone slab, skinning her elbows as she closed her eyes briefly to overcome the pain.

  As the Black Widow looked around to try to find the old man, she noticed that he was gone. Was he nothing more than a hallucination? Was it her mind's fevered attempt to make some sense of the situation? Could it have been the final throes as she entered death's door?

  While she lay there with her thoughts, Natasha had noticed that the desert had now cooled. It was almost as if the universe opened up its secrets to her. She could see the stars across the heavens as the gas giant cast an illuminating shadow on the horizon. Her mind was now clear. No longer did the darkness surround her. She had felt a spirit awakening inside of her, one of hope and overwhelming power. The pain in her hand had subsided to a mere itch for she knew it was no longer an issue. Was this then the key to immortality?  Would living a life of peace and tranquility be a satisfaction if one is ultimately forgotten or would one live a short life- full of adventure and battle and be remembered in heroic tales forever? She knew that the fates were judging her as to what her decision was.

  Getting up, Natasha brushed the clinging sand off her black jumpsuit as she began to marshal her energies into a single-minded pursuit towards her goal. As she rounded the rock shelf, she noticed an outline behind a sand dune just in front of her. After straddling the edge of the dune, she looked down and gave a dry, throaty laugh. Earlier that day she was ready to give up but now she realized that the goal was so close, she could just reach out and take it.

  Near the base of the sand dune on the other side was her all-black _Warhammer_; staring back at her like some half-buried sphinx. Not far away was Palatine's _Crusader_, standing upright after a perfect landing. Both BattleMechs looked like desert monoliths guarding the barren desert sands. The layers of dust and the drag chutes must have cushioned their fall for both were fully loaded and in excellent condition.


	18. 16 Counterstrike

  Despite his fatigue, the acolyte knew he had a job to do as he walked towards the perimeter of the base camp. It would be almost morning very soon and he knew that everything must be in tip-top shape before their commanding officer returned or there would be recriminations to pay. He had only been recruited into the Blessed Order just over a year ago and he immediately volunteered for the Militias. He wanted to fight the enemies of Blake but so far, this was not what he had in mind.

  The desert was a landscape of illusions. When the sun came up it would scorch you like the burning fires of hell but when nightfall came it would become very cold like the lathe of heaven. Several times when he looked out across the sands during the afternoon he would see mirages of water pools lying in the dunes as the air currents ebbed and flowed, visible through the ether. It was fortunate that his white robe was larger than usual and could double as a poncho over his military fatigues, combat harness and flak vest. At this time during the night, it helped to retain heat, as the once burning desert became a frigid, ice cold plain of nothingness.

  After walking for several minutes, the acolyte finally came upon the portable motion sensor, one of dozens spread out along the perimeter to serve as an early warning detector. There was a minor sandstorm during the early evening and it played havoc with the sensor grids and each portable unit needed to be cleaned periodically or otherwise it would malfunction. He was roused from his nap by his squad leader and tasked to clean the device so that it would work properly again, just his luck.

  Slinging his laser rifle over his shoulder, the acolyte sighed and took out a cleaning rag. This was really getting monotonous, he felt. The young soldier wondered why the LOM operators were allowed to sleep and not participate in the usual grunt work. He always felt jealous of them, these Special Forces veterans who never ever got to do the menial tasks that every soldier hated. Perhaps it was a privilege that they earned, the acolyte thought as he looked for any dirt on the sensor unit.

  As he did a cursory examination of the sensor, the acolyte let out a cry of surprise. It seemed that someone had opened up the control panel and deactivated it during the sandstorm. As his sluggish mind began to race to the inevitable conclusion, he quickly began to pull out his communicator. Just as he was about to activate it, the young WOB infantryman felt a slap on his forehead and then nothing at all as he slumped forward, his brains staining the sandy floor.

  Chifune Kishikawa scanned for other targets using her sniper scope. Since the Minolta 9000's sighting system had a light-intensifier capability, she could see the entire area as clear as day, though everything had a green tint to it. After surmising that everything was clear, Chifune gave a short hand-signal to her rear.

  Almost immediately, ten figures that were hiding in a sandy dune got up and began to race silently towards the inner perimeter of the WOB base camp. When the Black Widow rendezvoused with the surviving group of delegates earlier during the day, she drew up a plan to strike back at the Blakists. It would be risky operation but it would buy the main group of delegates extra time whether it succeeded or not. There were no shortage of volunteers but Dominic Durant picked the ones that were best suited for the task. If successful, it might net them some much-needed transportation and perhaps even weapons as well.

  The perimeter of the WOB base camp had floodlights that bathed the entire area, giving it some very bright illumination. In the center were the three grounded DropShips and their opened cargo bay doors. The strike team had waited until the majority of the 'Mechs and vehicles went out for their nightly patrols to try to find the delegates before disabling several perimeter sensors during a sandstorm. The ten-member team was mostly composed of bodyguards that had volunteered but Captain Janice De Llandes and her former ship's XO, Lieutenant John Shive, led them. Just before reaching the glare of the floodlights that signified the boundaries of the inner-perimeter, all ten men and women crouched down and waited for the diversion. Each team member was wearing a patched-up white robe with strange, mathematical symbols on it; they were sewn together from scraps of clothing in order to give them the illusion of being WOB members in case they were spotted.

  John Palatine eased his blue and gold 65-ton _Crusader_ along the dried river gully from the east as he carefully controlled his 'Mech until it now faced the inner-perimeter of the base camp. With the warning sensors and nearby sentries disabled, he knew that the Blakist fanatics would be in for a complete shock when all hell broke loose. Captain Natasha Kerensky told him to initiate a "mad minute" attack to try and cause as much havoc as possible as well as destroying any targets of opportunity. The Black Widow also warned him not to stay in the area for too long for the Blakists would call for immediate assistance from nearby units. All he had was maybe two minutes, at the most.

  As his targeting grid lit up, Palatine could see that several heavy trucks were parked alongside a _Triumph_ class DropShip. He hoped that the strike team would see those and commandeer them. To the right of that he could see a 40-ton _Initiate_ BattleMech being serviced by several white-robed technicians in an opened cargo bay door of a _Union_ DropShip. With a grim smile on his face, Palatine targeted the immobile 'Mech and squeezed the trigger on his control stick.

  Within a millisecond, two massive volleys of long-ranged missiles leaped out from his _Crusader's_ shoulder launchers. Palatine watched, mesmerized for a brief second as the white streaks from the missile exhaust tubes trailed out into the blackened desert sky as they made minute adjustments before immediately impacting upon the front torsos of the hapless _Initiate_. The Blakist 'Mech's weapon pods were open as it was being loaded with new missiles and so therefore became a virtual tinderbox as massive explosions detonated all over it. Several missiles gutted the ammo storage bin of the _Initiate_ as the 'Mech toppled over backwards into the _Union's_ cargo bay, its insides imploding as screaming personnel began to panic as chaos erupted all around them. Although he was tempted to keep firing more volleys into the DropShip's cargo bay, Palatine reminded himself that he had a lot of other priority targets out there.

  "What in Blake's hell was that?" _Adept_ Jason Cornelius called out using the comm. system of his Purifier battlearmor. Cornelius and his colleague had unpacked two Purifiers earlier that day and relished at finally getting the chance to do preliminary field-testing at a nearby dried-out riverbed to the west while his superiors were away. They had barely begun to test the mimetic effect that enabled the Purifiers to have stealth capabilities when explosions began to erupt at the base camp.

  "The base is under attack!" His colleague said as they both leapt up onto the top of the gully and scanned the area.

  Cornelius cursed. Almost all of the 'Mechs and vehicles had ventured out for a night search, hoping to catch the delegates if they traveled through the darkness. _Precentor_ Brandon St. Jamais had concluded that the delegates lacked any sort of firepower whatsoever and for them to even make an attempt to attack at the base would be pure insanity. How wrong they were. Not only had the delegates been able to somehow acquire some pretty hefty firepower but they were actually striking back. Recriminations would come later, Cornelius thought. What needed to be done now was to defend the perimeter until reinforcements arrived. At least that was the conventional way of reacting but Cornelius was a LOM veteran and in the Special Forces, you were taught to use your initiative.

  Over fifteen years ago, when the Clans invaded the Inner-Sphere they brought with them powered armor that was able to stand up against even BattleMechs. The Elementals, as they were called, gained a fearsome reputation: heavily protected behind an armored suit that enhanced their strength and movement, these tank suits vanquished all comers before them with their incredible firepower. In time, the Inner-Sphere began to develop their own types of powered armor. Though not quite as advanced as the Clan version, the myriad variety and the endless tinkering produced many versatile variants of powered armor for any situation.

  The Purifier was considered a state-of-the-art infiltration battlearmor. Although its armor protection and firepower was weak compared to the heavier battlesuit types, the Purifier featured a chemical composite on its armor sheaths that created a mimetic effect, allowing the suit to change colors and blend in with the environment. Additional stealth systems enhanced the suit's concealment capabilities. The one weakness of the Purifier's stealth systems was that the central processing unit tended to work better if the operator moved slowly. Thus, the faster the battlearmor moved, the less capable its concealment systems became.

  Quickly sizing up his armor's capabilities, Cornelius knew that his battlearmor would not be able to match a 'Mech for firepower in a stand-up fight but there were other ways to deal with them and his Purifier was ideally suited for that. Although they had not mounted the NARC launchers onto the battlearmor, it was still a potent weapon if used properly. "Did you bring those satchel charges with you?" He asked his identically suited colleague.

  "Yes, _Adept_. We were to practice with them tonight." His colleague answered using the Purifier's internal comm. link as the explosions continued.

  "Looks like it will be a live-fire exercise; follow me."

  As the second volley of missiles from Palatine's _Crusader_ impacted on the portable power units of the base camp, the resulting short-circuit immediately cut the power to the strobe lights and the entire base was thrown into darkness. Technicians began scrambling for cover while infantrymen sleeping inside the DropShips immediately shook themselves awake and started donning their flak vests and readying their weapons. A few of the less experienced soldiers ventured out to see a darkened landscape filled with occasional flashes of blinding light, explosions and screaming men. Some just stared out in utter disbelief while the more experienced ones began to adjust their night-vision goggles that some had retrieved along with their helmets. Since no one spotted their attackers, most fired their weapons in every direction, adding to the noise and lights that helped to illuminate the night.

  A WOB infantryman adjusted his night-vision goggles and readied his assault rifle as he saw ten robed figures crest a nearby small dune and began running towards him. Thinking that they were just technicians, the soldier scanned for other targets. A slug from a Capellan bodyguard's pistol impacted at the base of his neck and the Blakist went down, blood gushing from his wound as they ran past him.

  One of the Federated Suns bodyguards instantly took the dying soldier's rifle, night-vision goggles and ammo pouch as the group split into pairs and made it to the parked trucks. As one covered the other, a designated member of the strike team then got into the driver's seat of a truck and began to hotwire the vehicle's ignition using their pocket tools. Some of the more experienced ones got their trucks started immediately and began to drive away towards the east while the novices panicked and had to carefully remember what was taught to them during the mission briefing a few hours before. This had cost them a few precious seconds.

  _Acolyte_ Rogelio Chavez had been sleeping fitfully in his bunk inside the _Fury_ class DropShip when the alarms sounded. Most of the other LOM operators had accompanied the helicopters when they went out on another mission to try and locate the delegates but on this night he had decided to catch up on his sleep. His colleagues told him that he might miss the chance to chalk up more kills if they found the delegates but Chavez was adamant, he needed to rest his weary body. As the klaxons blared all around him, Chavez quickly put on his combat webbing and boots and was out the door in less than forty seconds. As he readied his rifle, Chavez smiled to himself- he was probably having more fun than his colleagues who decided to go with the patrol.

  John Palatine gave out a loud whoop as his latest volley of long-ranged missiles ignited an ammunition dump near the center of the camp. The resulting cacophony of explosions threw up a massive lightshow into the air as the stored ordinance detonated, a few exploding shells inadvertently flew into the _Fury's_ cargo hold, igniting more ammunition and causing a raging internal fire. WOB technicians were scrambling as they attempted to reorganize and try to control the damage being done. The command bunker was already blown to bits from a previous barrage of missiles from the _Crusader_ and so the Blakist garrison was in complete disarray. So far everything had gone according to plan, Palatine thought as the wanton displays of destruction began to distract him once more.

  In a dried-out riverbed to the east, Natasha Kerensky trembled with apprehension as she sat in the darkened cockpit of her _Warhammer_. She had positioned her BattleMech on the far side of the gully to provide cover once the stolen trucks had made their way there. Her all-black _Warhammer_ blended in with the night as it crouched low, keeping its profile close to the dried, sandy walls. Additionally, her 'Mech was customized with Clan weapons as well as added armor which made it more lethal than ever before. The "Widowmaker" variant of the venerable _Warhammer_ was also equipped with a Null-Signature system, a stealth arrangement of high-tech modifications that rendered her BattleMech invisible to opposing sensors in limited conditions. With a combination of heat baffles that reduced its infrared signature as well as incorporating a stealthy system of sensors and communications, the Black Widow was like a concealed predator, just waiting to strike at an unsuspecting enemy. But Natasha was getting concerned, the raid was taking far too long and WOB reinforcements could come any minute.

  As the first truck began to pass near her, Chifune quickly got up, slung the rifle over her shoulder and jumped into the back of the vehicle as it sped along towards the east. She had scored eleven kills and so far, the raid was a spectacular success.

  Captain Janice De Llandes cursed as the Federated Suns bodyguard beside her was still fiddling with the truck's ignition switch. The seconds seemed like an eternity as explosions occurred all around them. De Llandes could see that the other trucks had already begun to drive off into the darkness towards Natasha Kerensky and her _Warhammer_ 'Mech.

  "Hurry up!" De Llandes shouted as the bodyguard continued to fumble with the exposed ignition wires.

  "Almost there." The bodyguard answered without looking up. He was too busy concentrating on hotwiring the truck's ignition.

  Suddenly, the door at De Llandes' side opened and a WOB infantryman peered inside. "Brothers, what are you doing?" The young soldier asked.

  Janice De Llandes still had a laser pistol in her hand and she quickly shot the naive soldier in the face. The Blakist fell backwards onto the sandy ground, clutching at his horribly burnt visage. De Llandes almost immediately regretted it for she had never killed anyone before.

  "Got it!" The bodyguard said as he started the ignition and stepped on the accelerator. The truck began to lurch forward towards the safety of the night.

  _Acolyte_ Rogelio Chavez had barely got out of the _Fury_ class DropShip's cargo bay doors when it exploded into a hellish inferno that caught several of his colleagues. What was once mild amusement to him turned into righteous fury when he realized that his brothers were dying all around him, being blasted by an unseen adversary. Ignoring the cries of the wounded, Chavez activated the night-vision component on his sniper scope and began scanning for targets as he ran on top of a small hillock not far from the center of the base camp. As he traversed the scope towards the east, he let out a gasp as he noticed a _Crusader_ heavy BattleMech firing volleys of missiles into the camp. As his mind was totally aghast as to how the delegates were able to acquire 'Mechs, his training and experience ultimately took over. Although his sniper rifle was next to useless against a gargantuan war machine such as a BattleMech, he kept his cool and looked for other targets of opportunity.

  Sure enough, Chavez noticed a heavy truck making its way towards the east where the _Crusader_ was. Although the 'Mech could clearly see the truck it did not fire on such an exposed target; that could only mean one thing- the truck was being stolen and the _Crusader_ was providing cover. Chavez flicked off the safety catch of his rifle, took aim and fired.

  The LOM operator's first shot punctured the rear tire of the truck and the heavy transport began to flounder on the desert sands. If it was traveling on a road, the wheels would have self-sealed somewhat due to the fact that it was military grade tires but the dust seeped in and the vehicle grounded to a halt. Using his throat mike, Chavez quickly signaled a nearby team of WOB infantrymen to get over to it and capture the occupants.

  "We can't move!" The bodyguard shouted as he pressed on the accelerator with all his might.

  "Dammit!" De Llandes cursed as several WOB infantrymen began to surround the vehicle from both sides.

  "You in there! Come out with your hands up!" A WOB squad leader shouted as his men crouched down and aimed their rifles at them. The Federated Suns bodyguard instantly let loose a extended burst from his captured assault rifle which sent the Blakist NCO sprawling onto the ground as he caught a volley of slugs in his chest. The remaining WOB infantrymen immediately opened up, raking the front part of the truck with 5.56mm slugs and laser fire. The bodyguard was hit in the head several times and died immediately as De Llandes took several shots on her arms and upper torsos which sent her flying backwards out of the truck and onto the sandy ground.

  Chavez kept his eye at the truck in case anyone else was inside for a few seconds until his night-vision scope told him that there were no other occupants in it. Quickly scanning for other targets, Chavez noticed that another truck had already passed the still-firing _Crusader_ and was almost out of range. Although the distance was extreme, Chavez made slight adjustments on his scope as he noticed that the back of the truck contained boxes of ammunition and explosives. Using conventional slug throwers, the longest combat shot that Chavez ever heard of was 1,500 meters; judging from his calculations, it looked to be at that range. Carefully noting the line of HE grenades sitting exposed on one of the open crates at the back of the truck, Chavez zeroed-in on the closest one and fired.

  With a muzzle velocity of over 2,500 meters per second, the 7.62mm slug hit the side of the grenade but since the bullet had a high explosive component, it did the job. A scant second later, the rear of the truck began exploding as the stored ordinance began to detonate. Both bodyguards up front thought that the first few explosions were just part of the background and so failed to bail out of the vehicle in time as the resulting detonation of the stored C8 blasting blocks at the back literally tore the truck to shreds as it became a massive fireball.

  John Palatine grimaced as he saw the last truck behind him explode. If he had to stay awhile longer to kill a few more of these savage Blakists, so be it, he thought. As the young MechWarrior began to target the barren hillock near the center of the base camp, he did not notice two shimmering forms slowly making their way to his rear.

  "Now!" Cornelius shouted into his suit's comm. link as he leapt onto the legs of the _Crusader_ BattleMech and planted two satchel charges in its left knee joint. His colleague did the same thing on the 'Mech's right knee.

  The _Crusader's_ sensors immediately warned him of two contacts at point-blank range as Palatine stared back into the darkness from his cockpit viewports, unable to see what was happening. As he began thrashing his _Crusader_ in a panicked attempt to dislodge his tormentors, the two Purifiers jumped to the side as the satchel charges detonated.

  In a split second, the shaped charge of C8 explosive cut into the exposed knee joints of the heavily armored _Crusader_. As the high-explosives shattered the 'Mech's myomer musculature, both Purifiers began to fire point-blank shots with their extended-range small lasers at the exposed metallic "bones" of the _Crusader's _knees.

  Alarms wailed all over inside Palatine's cockpit as the young MechWarrior struggled desperately with the controls to keep the 'Mech upright but it was no use, the gyros began to malfunction and he could not get any response from the shattered knees as the _Crusader_ toppled over onto the sandy ground.

  Cornelius could still see the giant 'Mech thrashing about in the sand, it's medium lasers firing blindly into the air. The LOM officer and his colleague quickly pounced on top of the _Crusader's_ chest, continuously firing their lasers as they began to dismantle the metallic war machine like army ants over a downed caterpillar. As Cornelius began melting off the viewports surrounding the _Crusader's_ cockpit, a laser shot scorched his battlearmor's chest plate. It was apparent that even with his 'Mech disabled, the pilot continued to fight. With his rage still unabated, Cornelius fired continuously into the exposed cockpit until the smoke from a burning fire rose out.

  As the chaos began to die down around them, Cornelius jumped off the fallen 'Mech and proceeded back towards the center of the camp. It seemed that the rest of the raiders had gone away. Now he had to face the recriminations of not being in the command bunker during this one, crucial time.


	19. 17 Realizations

Spade-One heard the distress call no more than thirty seconds into the raid. The first message came through the command bunker as a communications officer began to let out a call for help to any unit in range before the comm. link abruptly went to static. The next calls came from the grounded DropShips as they sent out frantic requests for help against an unseen enemy. After relaying the calls to all nearby units, the Ferret scout helicopter immediately changed course and headed back to base at full speed.

Within less than ten minutes the Ferret pilot was overlooking the burning fires around the base camp. It looked like all the ammunition dumps had been hit and set ablaze as the firecracker-like explosions would reverberate even through the whine of the rotors and their high altitude. Several fires also seemed to be around the DropShips as emergency crews worked hard to try to contain them before they could spread to other parts of the ships. A fallen _Crusader_ BattleMech, it's knees shattered and cockpit torn open, lay on the sandy ground to the east; it seemed that not all of the raiders had gotten away.

The pilot switched on his chopper's comm. link. "This is Spade-one, I am circling the base camp. There was apparently a raid; the enemy used at least one BattleMech; heavy type." The pilot panned around using the night-vision goggles on his helmet as he circled lower for a closer look. "Confirmed _Crusader_ BattleMech."

"Spade-one, is the attack over?" The acknowledging voice belonged to _Precentor_ Brandon St. Jamias.

"Roger that, 'Mech-one. Damage control operations are underway." The Ferret pilot answered. "Raiders seemed to have left the area just minutes ago; request further orders."

"Pinpoint raider whereabouts but do not engage." St. Jamais ordered. "Scout ahead and relay enemy locations to all units."

"Roger that, sir." The pilot said as he veered the helicopter off towards the east.

When she had lost someone close to her, tears would normally well around her eyes as she shed them for the dead. But now, after all that had happened, so many had died and she was tired of shedding them. An ironclad determination of vengeance welled around her spirit as her rage and fury swelled to monstrous proportions. The seething anger threatened to erupt into wisps of fire and brimstone all around her body as she could barely control herself. John Palatine knew the risks when he volunteered to strike back at the Blakists but that gave her no comfort as she silently mourned his passing. He had made the choice and died, as he had wanted to, not as a hunted animal but as a warrior with a cause. She kept trying to justify her thoughts so that it would drive away her guilt but then again, such was the price of command.

Her all-black _Warhammer_ had been hiding close to the gully as the commandeered trucks began to pass her by, blending in with the desert night as the Null-Signature stealth system remained in full effect. She had counted about three trucks so it was apparent that they lost two and the accompanying men along with them. Looked like their casualties were five now. She knew that the WOB forces arrayed against them not only had overwhelming firepower but also were an elite unit, able to match her tactics with the strength of experience and iron determination. If they were to prevail in this battle, they would need a miracle with which to survive.

The Ferret pilot peered into the darkness as he used his night-vision goggles to spot for any telltale signs of movement as the light scout helicopter cruised by the dried river gully. It was obvious that the trucks that were stolen kept their headlights off as they drove to an unknown destination but already the pilot could see dust clouds in the desert air as he started tracking down the fleeing vehicles from the air. "See anything?" He said to his co-pilot who was scanning the other side of the cockpit.

"Nothing." His co-pilot answered.

"I see something!" The Ferret pilot shouted as he saw something large and dark straddling the nearby gully.

Natasha saw the pursuing helicopter almost immediately. It was apparent that the Blakists would try to track them down and that was the reason why she did not support the _Crusader_ as it attacked the camp, if only she had more 'Mechs at her disposal, she would teach these fanatics about how to fight a war. Quickly deactivating her Null-Signature system, she lighted up her targeting reticules as she aimed her 'Mech's weapons at the approaching helicopter.

"BattleMech up ahead!" The Ferret co-pilot shouted as the helicopter's sensors instantly registered an enemy 'Mech that seemingly popped out of nowhere.

"I see it!" The chopper pilot said as he punched on the comm. link switch. "Spade-one to all units, we have spotted-" He was cut off in mid-sentence as a 120mm gauss slug made of solid, depleted uranium slammed head-on into the Ferret's nose. Being lightly armored, the solid shell immediately passed through the entire length of the aircraft's fuselage as if it wasn't even there as the Ferret literally disintegrated in the air.

As pieces of the helicopter began falling from the night sky, Natasha quickly hunkered down once again and reactivated her stealth systems. She needed to give the trucks more time to clear the area before she needed to leave too. Within a few short minutes, two enemy 'Mechs were already making their way towards her position.

Natasha could see that a 45-ton _Bloodhound_ was moving at cruising speed, using its active probe to spot her hiding place while an 80-ton _Spartan_ assault 'Mech was following close behind, acting as a back-up in case they met any resistance. Even with her Null-Signature systems, the _Bloodhound_ pilot stood a good chance of spotting her once he got close enough. Natasha couldn't allow that as she once again disengaged the Null-Signature system and powered up her weapons.

The _Bloodhound_ detected the _Warhammer_ just as Natasha fired her dual Clan-manufactured gauss cannons at the surprised enemy 'Mech. Essentially an inert metal slug propelled by intense magnetic energy, the gauss cannon was the next step in projectile weapon evolution. The massive magnets of the gauss cannons grabbed onto their respective metal slugs and polarized it. With the intense magnetic fields surrounding them, the massive 120mm shells instantly leapt out of the rifled barrel of the _Warhammer's_ arms at hypersonic speeds and impacted onto the enemy 'Mech.

Both slugs tore through the _Bloodhound's_ left torso and literally disemboweled the 45-ton medium 'Mech as its exposed fusion reactor instantly went into meltdown. The _Bloodhound_ collapsed in a heap as its metallic shape began to glow from the exposed engine core. The _Spartan_ pilot quickly fired its extended-range particle projectile cannon at the general area where Natasha's _Warhammer_ was, sending a man-made lightning bolt eastwards and hitting a nearby patch of sand, literally turning it into glass.

As the assault-class _Spartan_ began to move forward at flank speed, hoping to close in so that it could use its pulse lasers and short-ranged missiles into play, the WOB 'Mech faltered and stopped as its sensors would alternately pinpoint and then lose the _Warhammer's_ signal.

The Black Widow nearly laughed as the enemy 'Mech began to fire its weapons at her general direction, as it was just unable to pinpoint her exact location in the darkness. What the Blakist did not know was that she kept alternately activating and deactivating her _Warhammer's_ Null-Signature system as she waited for her weapons to cycle back again. The Black Widow knew that the best way to bring down the heavier _Spartan_ was to wear it down at long-range.

While the _Spartan_ pilot howled in frustration, two 120mm shells struck it, the first impacting on its center torso and the second shot hitting it in the left leg. Fortunately, the _Spartan_ was heavily armored and it was able to absorb the damage so far. The LOM MechWarrior immediately made a decision as he drove the _Spartan_ into full-throttle, hoping he could get into the gully and spot the enemy _Warhammer_ visually.

Natasha grimaced as she saw the 80-ton assault 'Mech bearing down on her. Once it got into close range, The _Spartan_ could turn into a very big nuisance if she didn't take it out. The WOB 'Mech might beat her at close range and destroy the trucks that she was protecting due to its superior speed and armor. But the Black Widow knew that she should trust in her skills and not panic; she needed to wait until her gauss cannons cycled back again and she would try to deliver an alpha strike- hitting the enemy 'Mech with all her weapons at once to try to bring it down or else her troubles would multiply rapidly, already she saw several more enemy contacts making their way to the area. As she fought to keep herself from panicking, Natasha waited for her time.

Sure enough, the _Spartan_ pilot knew from his instincts alone where the _Warhammer_ was as he pivoted his barrel-chested torso to bring his weapons to bear. He felt that he could take any sort of attack from the enemy 'Mech and still come out swinging. With luck, he might even cripple it at this range with the _Spartan's_ massive battlefists.

Just as the enemy assault 'Mech pivoted towards her, Natasha had already deactivated the Null-Signature system as she was concentrating to target all of her weapons on one vulnerable spot. Seeing a few loose armor plates on the _Spartan's_ left leg, the Black Widow focused her weapon reticules on it and fired.

A barrage of heavy laser fire as well as two 120mm gauss slugs impacted onto the _Spartan's_ left leg just as the WOB MechWarrior triggered his weapons. The multiple laser hits and depleted uranium shells tore through the _Spartan's_ formidable armor and sheared off the leg close to the lower torso. The _Spartan's_ pulse lasers went slightly wide as it started to tip over sideways and the streak missile launcher failed to get a lock-on as it lost the proper firing angle. The WOB assault 'Mech crashed onto the base of the sandy gully with a loud crunch as its left arm shattered from the force of the fall.

Rivers of sweat poured down Natasha's forehead and steamed the visor in her neurohelmet as she eased the _Warhammer_ back and then turned to move out. Her 'Mech's heat scales had risen to near-danger levels but now that the enemy was down, she could bide her time and vent the excess temperature off. The _Spartan_ still thrashed on the sandy ground, its pulse lasers firing wildly but hitting nothing but dust and rocks. How she wanted to finish the stricken 'Mech off but already the enemy signals were multiplying to over a half-dozen as reinforcements swarmed the area. Best to get the hell out of there and live to fight another day, she thought.

As John Shive drove the stolen truck on into the night, he looked at his rearview mirror and spotted only one other truck behind him. With the other heavy transport out in front, it seemed like only three of them had gotten out of the lion's den. Part of him was thankful that he had made it out alive but at the same time the regrets and hindsight started to overwhelm him as to the possibilities of getting more than what they could have gotten. As he strained his eyes out into the night and hoping that his superior, Captain De Llandes made it to safety as well, a gnawing reality manifested itself into his subconscious, as he feared for the worst.

Brandon St. Jamais eased up on the throttle of his 75-ton _Toyama_ BattleMech as he surveyed the carnage around him. The raiders had planned it well and if were it not for a few LOM operators that kept their cool and used their initiative, the entire engagement would have been a bitter defeat for the holy cause. As it was, they were able to inflict casualties on the attackers though they had paid a price for it as well. Jason Cornelius had offered his resignation as acting senior field commander but Brandon turned it down; he knew that he needed them all now. It had stopped being a game; the mouse was not only cunning but had teeth as well. For it was partly his own fault that he neglected to keep some of his force for base defense and instead deployed all of his available forces to try and find those accursed delegates, his impatience had gotten the better of him and he realized it.

"Cornelius to _Precentor_, come in over." The voice of Jason Cornelius crackled over Brandon's comm. link.

"This is the _Precentor_, reading you clearly." Brandon answered.

"The casualty report is as follows: 54 dead, another 38 wounded. We lost three 'Mechs: a _Spartan_, an _Initiate_ and a _Bloodhound_." Cornelius said over the link. "We also lost two aircraft: one Ferret from hostile fire and a Gnat which crashed when it lost the signal from the command bunker."

"What about the other Gnats?"

"We were fortunate that they were equipped with a failsafe autopilot system that ordered them to return to base once they lost their command signals. We have to thank _Adept_ Faud for jury-rigging those in. The Gnat that crashed flew into a dust storm."

"Are the fires under control?"

"Yes, _Precentor_. We lost several supply dumps when they were hit and several of the DropShips sustained heavy damage as well but they are still serviceable."

"Very well." Brandon sighed. "Is it true that the raiders attempted to commandeer several vehicles?"

"Yes. They tried to drive away five heavy supply trucks but we were able to intercept two of them before they got through the base perimeter. We have captured a prisoner, but she is seriously wounded."

"Spare no effort in interrogation." Brandon was fuming; but at least he had someone to take it out on. "I will not see more of our brothers die if we can help it."

"Yes, _Precentor_." Cornelius acknowledged. "I will have a more comprehensive report for you shortly."

"Good. Considering what the circumstances were, you did well." Brandon said.

"Thanks Be to Blake, _Precentor_." Cornelius replied. "I shall do better next time."

"I know you will. Over and out."

"_Precentor_, this is Goth." Amon Goth patched into Brandon's comm. link as well.

"Have you pinpointed the raiders?" Brandon asked.

"I am afraid we have lost them, sir. A very fierce sandstorm has just descended upon us; visibility is near zero and the dust has covered up their tracks. I will need air support to complete the sweep."

Brandon cursed. Of all the bad luck, even the weather conspired against them. Another massive dust storm was moving into the entire area. Oh well, the delegates would have to wait; it wasn't like they were going anywhere anyway. "Withdraw back to base camp. We will wait out the sand storm here."

"Are you sure, Precentor? I believe from what has been reported there can't be more than one or two enemy 'Mechs out there. If we had some air spotters we could take them out." Goth wanted to fight and get it over with.

"That's precisely the problem. We have no air cover." Brandon explained. "The Gnats will be grounded until we set up a new remote control command system, the choppers won't be of much use in that visibility and they are vulnerable at close range; I don't want to lose any more of them and lastly, both _Rievers_ still have not been fully repaired as of yet."

"I understand, Precentor. We are returning to base." Goth acknowledged. "I have seen the _Spartan's_ recording of its targeting systems when it was uploaded to my 'Mech's computer."

"Find anything useful?"

"Yes. It seems that we have been engaging an all-black, vintage _Warhammer_ heavy 'Mech with a red hourglass painted on its left leg."

Brandon was stunned for a few brief seconds when he heard the news. "I see. We will discuss it when you return. Over and out."

The young Precentor now realized who it was that they were fighting all along. No wonder the raid was so expertly planned. Only an experienced commander belonging to an elite unit would be so daring as to mount a counterstrike right at the enemy's heart. The rumors of a great warrior, resurrected and more lethal than ever before, were proving to be true.

It was the Black Widow. There could be no doubt about that.


	20. 18 By the Rivers of Babylon

"Everyone, get into the trucks now!" Dominic had to shout because of the wind. The dust storm tore at their eyes and throats as they scrambled to get onto the heavy transports that had just rendezvoused with them. Dominic was grateful for the evening sandstorm; it would cover their escape into the mountains. For the first time since they crashed onto the desert moon, he felt a slight tinge of hope.

As Dominic got into the second truck's cabin, he saw two other members of the delegation crammed in with him as well as a silent, stone-faced John Shive who was at the wheel.

"Let's get going shall we?" Dominic said with a smile.

Shive did not answer as he shifted the truck's gears and the vehicle started to lurch forward again. Dominic was about to ask what was wrong but then realized what the situation was and wisely kept his mouth shut for the rest of the trip.

Just as Mandrissa Monika Lee was about to climb onto the back of the third truck, she instantly felt a cramp on her hip and she fell back down onto the sand, the howling winds tearing at her mercilessly. Almost immediately, steady hands got her back up and proceeded to place her at the back along with a few other exhausted delegates. As she cringed with pain, a soft hand began to rub her anguished hip. As the official delegate of the Capellan Confederation looked up, she saw the reassuring smile of one of the stewardesses of the _Amerigo_, Jessica Bradshaw.

"Easy, Mandrissa." Bradshaw continued to massage her swollen hip. "You should not be putting too much pressure on this."

Mandrissa Lee gasped as the biting pain tore into her until it suddenly subsided. "How did you do that?" She asked, surprised.

"I learnt a bit of acupuncture during my days as a teenager." Bradshaw grinned as she continued to apply pressure on Lee's swollen hip as the truck that they were in began to move. "The pain should fully subside within a few hours."

"Thank you, my dear. Where are you from by the way?"

"My family hails from Spica, formerly the St. Ives Compact." Bradshaw said. "Due to the peace and order situation, my father felt that the best way to keep away from trouble was getting a job as part of a commercial flight crew. How wrong he was."

Monika Lee laughed despite the pain. "Well, maybe just this once you got a bit of bad luck. So your parents were formerly with the St. Ives Compact then?"

"Yes." Bradshaw said as she sat back among the crates that the truck was carrying. "But they didn't care who was in charge, they just wanted peace so that they could get on with their lives."

"And what about you, my dear? Did you think that the Capellan solution to reintegrate St. Ives back into the fold was a wrong one?"

"I am like my parents. I just want peace." With that Jessica Bradshaw got up and crawled over to where the other delegates were in order to see if they needed help, leaving the Mandrissa alone with her thoughts.

Several hundred kilometers to the west, _Precentor_ Brandon St. Jamais listened with growing frustration as the fury of the howling winds and dust swirled outside while he and the other senior officers sat in the luxury of the DropShip's comfortable climate control systems. _Adept_ Achmed Faud was delivering the last of his operational readiness report.

"Both the _Bloodhound_ and the _Initiate_ are complete write-offs, I'm afraid." Achmed Faud said.

"Status of their pilots?" Amon Goth asked.

"_Bloodhound_ pilot was killed when he failed to eject when his reactor core melted while the _Initiate_ pilot had the unfortunate luck to be sitting beside his 'Mech when the attack started. He is in serious but stable condition, burns on over ninety-percent of his body."

Brandon grimaced. Two casualties among the many others, but two he could ill-afford to lose. "What about the _Spartan_?"

"Give my team forty-eight hours, _Precentor_." Faud sighed with obvious exhaustion. "We will have it back to full operational status. The pilot wishes to avenge himself upon the Black Widow."

"Our Holy Order is blest to have dedicated individuals such as yourself working selflessly for us, brother Faud. When will the Gnats be operational again?" Brandon said.

"We are almost finished in getting our new remote control systems operational again, _Precentor_. Once the _Sherji _dissipates, the Gnats will be airborne."

"Good." Brandon turned and faced Jason Cornelius. "What about our infantry?"

"Well, we were supposed to have a full squad of Purifiers but the attack on the DropShips have seriously damaged most of the suits. We have two operational Purifiers only. As far as light infantry, we have two platoons." Cornelius explained.

"That should be more than enough." Brandon said. "We still have the numerical and firepower advantage. I want the Purifiers deployed with the LOM infantrymen; they should be able to complement each other perfectly."

"I agree." Cornelius said.

"Once the _Spartan_ is back to operational status that gives us ten 'Mechs. I want permission to hunt the Black Widow down." Goth asked.

"Not on your own." Brandon said. "We will do a full-scale attack the next time we spot them. No more playing around." The others nodded in agreement as the meeting broke up.

After leaving the conference room, Brandon pulled his white robes tight around him as he headed for the brig. A fully armed WOB infantryman saluted him as he used his fingerprints to pass through the biometric sensors and entered a small room.

A diminutive illumination bulb on the ceiling bathed the room in twilight. On the hazy floor lay a woman, naked and covered with blood. A slight breath came out of her wheezing throat with an occasional bubble of vomit. She was near death.

Brandon looked down and stared at her pathetic form. So this woman was one of the raiders who so brazenly attacked his base camp and nearly got away with five truckfulls of weapons and ammunition. He had let his ROM-trained interrogators do whatever they pleased with her, knowing that she would die anyway. That the whole thing was recorded on vidtape only pleased him further for he had nearly flown into a rage when one of the trucks that were stolen contained some of his personal belongings, specifically several holovid datadisks that he so cherished. One of them was a recent movie that he had made with Kali Liao and he was looking forward to viewing it in the sanctity of his private quarters. He hoped that it was lost during the raid but if the delegates did manage to get it and view it, it still wouldn't have mattered for he was going to kill them all anyway, preferably with his bare hands. But not before he got some pleasure out of some of them first.

As he knelt over and brushed back the sticky-matted hair so that he could see her swollen, blood-covered face, the woman let out a bubbling sound as droplets of blood and vomit trickled down her bruised, blackened cheeks. Quickly taking a canister of water from a nearby table, Brandon poured it slowly over her face so as to wash some of the blood away. After standing up and admiring his handiwork, Brandon began to remove his robe and unbuckle his belt.

If he couldn't have some fun with his stolen holovid disks, then he would at least have some fun now on this one before she died. Brandon's last rational thought before his perverted lust took over was to remember that he needed to remind the interrogators to make an extra copy for him; he could restart his collection again.

Even with the sun staring straight down at them, the visibility was in mere meters because of the massive dust storm. The _Sherji_ pounded the area mercilessly, the vortex of airborne sand was like a khaki wall that obscured their vision and tore at their bodies. Even within the apparent safety of their vehicles, fine grains of sand still seeped in. The dust would make its way to every corner and every part of one's body, there was no denying of it.

Natasha's _Warhammer_ led the way with its navigational computer as the small convoy of trucks made its way relentlessly towards the mountains. Sometimes the trucks would get mired in the shifting sands but a slight nudge from the _Warhammer's_ gargantuan legs pushed the vehicles back in motion. Within a few hours, all of the vehicles had made it to a sort of bedrock trail that enabled their wheels to grip the solid stone and they were able to proceed much faster.

The Black Widow could see that the _Sherji_ was beginning to die down as the howling winds became less intense as the swirling vortex began to lose its power. Just as the wind forces dropped off to a few kilometers an hour, her 'Mech's sensors immediately began to detect a large landmass in front of them. Expecting trouble, Natasha quickly accelerated the _Warhammer_ using the throttle; she needed to face whatever it was out there before it could possibly be a threat to the vulnerable trucks.

As her _Warhammer_ crested a newly formed sand dune, Natasha let out a cry of surprise. She had not expected this. But then again, everything that had happened so far was uncanny, as if it was some sort of horrid fantasy that threatened to engulf her. First it was the realization that the desert harbored life and then she had a strange, almost supernatural encounter with an old man of the desert that seemed like a hallucination. As she stared back at what lay in front of her, it was merely another in a series of unexpected events that seemed to mystify her even further. Natasha slowed the Warhammer to a stop as she continued to look at it in disbelief. Was this just another sign from the fates? What other strange enigmas would be lying out here?

Dominic was partially thankful that the sky had at last cleared as John Shive drove the truck over the sand dune. They had been traveling for many hours now and only Dominic and Shive were awake inside the truck's driving compartment, all of the others had fallen asleep from pure exhaustion and so therefore the two were one of the first to see it. Shive pressed on the brakes and sat back, speechless. Dominic let out a dry gasp, as he could scarcely believe his own eyes. The SLDF Intelligence Officer rubbed his weary eyes to see if it was nothing more than a mirage but to no avail. Reality stared back at his unbelieving mind.

Across the dunes, the ancient city of Babylon stood before them. Its blue glazed walls scintillating in the setting sun.


	21. 19 Motive

It was supposed to be the most significant archaeological find for the past one thousand years; instead it was in danger of being destroyed. He had felt that he didn't need the world, now the world was coming back to haunt him. This was supposed to unite mankind so that everyone could share this monumental event; instead it would serve as mankind's black dirge, to be sung as the boatman carried them all across the Styx.

Professor Adrian Smythe listened intently to the story being told by the leader of the surviving delegates with wanton apprehension. A part of him wanted to shut them all out; their problems should not be his problems. Couldn't they understand that he and his staff were working on one of the most monumental discoveries which could very well shed light on the origins of mankind and that they should not be disturbed?

Smythe was born in the year 3000. It was a significant time for man had at last conquered the stars. JumpShips had colonized hundreds of worlds and there was to be room and enough resources for all. But like all human follies, the specters of greed, jealousy and power reared their horrid selves and once again mankind was at war with itself. Many of his generation eagerly went to the schools of higher learning to either become businessmen or soldiers, many ended up either rich or dead as the countless wars for supremacy raged across the Inner-Sphere. But Smythe was a different sort of fellow, he was a romantic who dreamt of ancient civilizations, of high-browed kings who worshipped the gods of antiquity and reveled in their marvelous palaces. In time, he became the head of the archaeology department in Tharkad University, spending his days doing research and grading the term papers of people who didn't seem to matter to the real world. The military-industrial complex was a gargantuan, unstoppable beast and if you were not part of it, you would be either ignored or worse, become fodder for its countless graves across the galaxy.

And so Adrian Smythe was destined to be nothing more than a man who didn't belong in the 31st century, a man who would disappear in the pages of history for it was not the time of his kind to be writing it. But then the fates intervened. Just as the Lyran Alliance began to feel the throes of the FedCom Civil War, Smythe had bumped into a half-crazed prospector who kept raving about a lost city in a desert moon of a gas giant located in an uninhabited star system. Smythe was about to dismiss it as just another wild spacefarer's tale until the man described it so vividly that Smythe instinctively knew that the man was telling the truth. It was then that he realized that he had a destiny to fulfill; it became an obsessive quest, but it gave meaning to his existence.

After selling all of their possessions and convincing their few friends and relatives to finance them, Smythe, his wife and a few devoted archaeology students from the university chartered a JumpShip to travel off the beaten paths and deliver them to the desert moon. The crew thought they were mad, but Smythe cajoled, pleaded, negotiated and threatened until he got his way. A commercial DropShip allowed them to disembark on the desert moon's surface and left them with several years' supply of food and water, promising to return in six months time. As it happened, the DropShip did not return for at least two years but the Smythes didn't seem to care. Their fanatical persistence was rewarded when they located the ancient city that the prospector had told them about.

It was exactly as he had envisioned it. A precise replica of the ancient city of Babylon during its height stood at the base of the mountains. Smythe and his team spent several years just exploring the vast, deserted metropolis as their awe and wonderment grew. In time, they knew that they needed more funds and more people to help them in uncovering the secrets of the city's origins. They had merely put a pebble in the ocean, there were so many secrets to uncover, so many revelations to discern. To that extent, Smythe was able to contact his counterpart in the Draconis Combine, Dr. Mordecai Dayan of Luthien University. Despite their differences in the political spectrum, both men became fast friends because of their love of history. Dayan was instrumental in getting further financing so that they could mount a second expedition to the moon for the purposes of uncovering the vast mysteries of the ancient city once and for all.

Now that they finally had the men and the resources to truly begin to uncover the mysteries of the ancient metropolis at last, three truckloads of survivors from a delegation that was destined to attend the Tharkad Conference drove through the _Shamash_ Gate and into the northern part of the city that afternoon, he realized that the furies might have just decreed their black curse upon them all.

"Well, that's pretty much it." Dominic Durant said as he finished recounting the delegation's ordeal across the desert as he faced the senior staff of the Smythe-Dayan Expedition. Sitting across from him was Professor Adrian Smythe, his wife Constance Smythe as well as Dr. Mordecai Dayan and several graduate students from various universities all across the Inner-Sphere. Natasha Kerensky and Carlos Sanz flanked Dominic. All were sitting on folding stools inside the inner Temple of _Marduk._ The lighted braziers served to illuminate the glazed blue bricks that were the walls of the temple as the desert once more settled into night. Across the massive archways were written strange glyphs while statues of winged lions with the heads of bearded men stared down at them from their gargoyle-like perches.

The archaeological team said nothing as they absorbed what was said. A few eyebrows were raised but nothing came out of their mouths as they listened with stone-cold silence. It seemed that their peaceful and orderly world had just crumbled in the unbridled face of reality.

"Could I ask something?" Dominic said.

"Of course, we are a democracy here." Dr. Mordecai Dayan said as a matter of fact.

"How many of you are here?" Dominic asked.

"We number about fifty-two." Constance Smythe explained. "That includes the senior archaeologists plus the students as well as the support staff."

"When will your expedition be picked up by your JumpShip?" Sanz asked.

"Oh, not for another eighteen months, I'm afraid." Dr. Dayan said. "We just had a supply run about six months ago."

"And you have no grounded DropShips either?" Natasha asked.

"None." Mordecai Dayan answered. "We have a permanent supply depot in the Royal palace that can last us for another year, at least."

Sanz bit his lip. So there was going to be no chance of rescue using that option.

"I would like to ask," Professor Adrian Smythe said, "why are the Blakists trying to destroy you?"

"We are not quite sure at this point." Dominic explained. "I believe they are either after someone within the group or something that we possess that is of great value to them."

"And you have no idea what it is?" Smythe asked incredulously.

"Like I said," Dominic sighed, "we have been on the run and I just haven't had time to think."

"We understand, Major Durant." Constance Smythe tried to smooth things over. "But I also hope that you understand our position here. We are not soldiers. If WOB attacks, it will be a massacre."

"I hear you." Dominic said. "All we are asking for now is that you give us some time to figure out what they want from us."

"Very well." Mordecai Dayan said. All of them knew there wasn't any choice at this point. "But I hope you will know soon and let us know as well."

"You have my word." Dominic concluded. With that, the meeting broke up. The archaeological team huddled in a small group with barely concealed arguments brewing between them. Dominic, Sanz and Natasha walked out into the main dusty street and started towards the Royal palace, where most of the delegates were sheltered.

"Now what?" Sanz asked as the three continued to walk.

"I don't know how much time we got, but we need to find out what the Blakists want from us." Dominic said then turned his attention to Natasha. "Captain, what is your assessment, can we defend this place?"

"There are about fifty of us, if we can somehow convince these archaeologists to fight for us, that gives us about a hundred." Natasha said as they walked on. "But even with those numbers, the position is untenable. Only a few of us has got combat training, the rest are either diplomats or civilians."

"Did we get anything useful from the trucks we commandeered?" Sanz asked.

"We did good on that raid but we lost some good men and a 'Mech as well. We got crates of small arms, ammunition, night-vision equipment as well as a few heavy weapons." Dominic explained, as they got closer to the blue-glazed _Ishtar_ Gate. "And a set of curiosity pieces." He added.

Sanz was momentarily confused. "Curiosity pieces?"

"Yes." Dominic suppressed a smirk. "We found one crate that contained personal belongings labeled '_Precentor_'. I surmised that all the stuff we found there belonged to their CO; mostly worthless, sentimental stuff with the exception of one datadisk."

"What did it contain?" Natasha asked.

"A snuff Tri-Vid." Dominic said. "Starring no less than Duchess Kali Liao and _Precentor_ Brandon St. Jamais."

"Brandon St. Jamais?" Sanz said. "Is he related to-?"

"Correct." Dominic said. "He is the younger brother of the WOB _Precentor Martial_. I heard that he is a rising star among the Blakist Militia, he was an _Adept_ during Operation _Odysseus_ and did well there. Funny, I don't recall getting an intel report stating that he got promoted. I guess WOB must be rapidly expanding more than we expected."

"Sick man." Sanz said as the three stood before the Royal Palace.

"I'm keeping it with me." Dominic patted the inner-pocket of his Star League uniform. "May be useful to us in the future."

"I'll go see to the others." Sanz said as he began to walk up the stone steps towards the entrance of the palace.

Dominic turned and looked at Natasha as they both stood there, admiring the clear, evening sky. "I was hoping that this would be a good defensive position, but what you are saying is that it doesn't really matter."

"We don't have the manpower nor do we have the equipment, Major. Sorry." Natasha said. "The most we could do is delay them. But the outcome will not be in doubt."

"Suppose we man the walls like the defenders of antiquity did, can we hold them off?" Dominic asked.

"We would need tens of thousands to man these walls, even then, they could easily breach it using armor, 'Mechs and air power."

"So our best bet is to let them come in and ambush them?"

"Yes, it's our only bet. We need to set up some strongpoints and a layered-defense. But even then it's only a delay to the inevitable."

"Better than doing nothing." Dominic said. "At least it will get their minds off surrendering and may give us more time to get to the bottom of this. Can you use your 'Mech inside the city?"

"No, the streets are much too narrow and it isn't that large as far as cities go. I won't be able to maneuver." Natasha said as a matter of fact. "I'll use my 'Mech outside the city walls and try to draw as much of the enemy away as I can."

"What's to stop them from just holding you off and coming in with their 'Mechs?"

"I checked out the surrounding layout of this ancient site." Natasha explained. "It seems to have been built on top of a plateau, the mountains are off towards the north, just past the Citadel, near the _Ishtar_ Gate. The east and west walls have got jagged rocks near them, that means if they use 'Mechs and tanks, they would have to come in from the south, right at the main entrance of the city. The 'Mechs would also find it very confining, only a few main thoroughfares that would clog them up."

"So if they come inside the city, it would be with tanks and infantry?" Dominic asked.

"And helicopters." Natasha added. "They know we still have one 'Mech and they will come after me using sheer numbers of their own 'Mechs."

"Okay, when they locate us, will they come at the height of the day or at night?"

"I would guess at night. They believe that they have superior night-vision capabilities, which they do, and they will attack either at dusk or just before dawn." Natasha said.

"Very well, Captain." Dominic sighed. Deep at the back of his mind, he knew it might come down to this. There was a very big possibility that they would all be dead very soon. The odds against them were just too great. Natasha had already concluded that and accepted it. The question was, would he be able to fight and die, or would he and the others break?

"With your permission, Major," Natasha said as she was trying to keep busy, "I would like to check out a few more potential areas in the city for our defense."

"Don't let me stop you, Captain." Dominic smiled as Natasha turned away and walked out into the starry night. A part of him wanted to just give up and surrender to the Blakists but he knew it wouldn't matter in the end anyway. For a brief instance, Dominic Durant had a premonition, a feeling swept over him as he sensed that he would never leave this desert moon.

The Royal Palace stood right beside the _Ishtar_ Gate. Located at the northernmost part of the walled-city, these tall buildings were shadowed by the mountain ranges to the north. Although the palace had wide-open windows for ventilation, most of the light sources were positioned inwards so that the illumination would not be visible from the outside.

Mandrissa Monika Lee lay in a cot beside a tall stone column, resting her old, weary body. She propped herself up on an elbow as she saw people coming to and fro, administering first aid to the weak and sick. A small illuminator lamp hung near an unused brazier, casting long shadows in the inner-hallway. As she lay there, she instantly saw Jessica Bradshaw passing by and waved at her. The former stewardess of the _Amerigo_ quickly noticed the official Capellan delegate and walked over to her, smiling as she knelt down beside the older woman.

"How are you feeling?" Jessica Bradshaw asked.

"Much better, thank you." Mandrissa Lee smiled back. "I would like to ask you something."

"As long as it's not a long question. I have many things to do."

"Something very short, then." Mandrissa Lee spoke softly so that Bradshaw had to get closer in order to hear her. "How long have you been an agent for the _Maskirovka_?"

Jessica Bradshaw stared back at her with a gaping mouth. She had a mixture of shock and surprise.

"Come on, Ms. Bradshaw." Mandrissa Lee said. "Your family hailed from Spica, yet you knew about ancient acupuncture? Only someone with a thorough knowledge of pressure points would know how to numb my hip joints like that. I have had many chiropractors who have been treating me and the one technique that you used reminds me of an acupuncturist for the Warrior House of Ijori."

"You accuse me of being a spy? After all that I have done for you?" Jessica Bradshaw was incredulous as she started to back away.

Just as the former stewardess turned to walk away, Count Seiji Oshiwara, who placed a restraining grip on her shoulders, instantly stopped her. Bradshaw thought about knocking the older man to the ground using her martial-arts techniques but instantly stopped when she noticed _Tai-i_ Chifune Kishikawa close by, observing them with a vibrokatana at the ready.

Jessica turned back at the old woman lying on the cot. "We both serve the same state. How could you have betrayed me?"

"I did not betray you, my dear." Mandrissa Lee smiled. "I simply want to know what is going on before I die." With that, Jessica was led away towards the outer hall.


	22. 20 Reflections on War

One thing about spending nights in a desert is the high possibility of illumination. Because of the lack of clouds, heavenly bodies would be able to give the terrain a strange kind of twilight, it was as if the darkness had never fell. In the case of the desert moon, its own gas giant gave it sufficient light to the point that artificial illumination didn't seem necessary.

The Black Widow walked along the deserted streets of the ancient city, analyzing and marveling at its construction. Not since her meeting with a mysterious old man deep in the desert several days before had she felt a sort of spirit embed itself into her body. It was almost as if the will of the planet itself had manifested into her consciousness. The feeling was both strange and exhilarating, as if a kind of inner-peace had at last circulated into the depths of her soul. The turmoil that had plagued her in the past was no more.

A sharp prick on the sole of her left boot made Natasha instantly stop and look down. Something glinted on the cobbled stones and it looked like a small metal figurine of some sort, half buried in the dusty street. Picking it up, the Black Widow looked at it, closely using the slight illumination of the gas giant above her. The small object fit into the palm of her hand and was a sort of humanoid figurine made of either bronze or iron. It looked like a winged demon of some sort. Having dragonfly-like wings at its back, the humanoid form was emaciated, with a most hideous face that resembled a cross between a human being and a bulldog. It must have been some sort of either a demon or god that the Babylonians either worshipped or made charms against. A small hole on the top of its head meant that it was worn like a necklace of some sort. But was it worn as a protection or that of a curse, she wondered.

"Amazing, isn't it?" A soft, feminine voice came from behind, startling her somewhat.

As Natasha turned around, she noticed that Professor Smythe's wife, Constance, had also been walking around the antiquated streets. The Black Widow must have been too absorbed in her own thoughts not to notice her.

"I'm sorry if I startled you." Dr. Constance Smythe said as she stared out into the twilight, across the dead city. "I like to take walks by myself here at night, especially when the gas giant's illumination is at its peak."

"Quite alright, Dr. Smythe." Natasha replied. "This place is captivating."

"Please forgive my husband." Dr. Smythe said, her white hair fluttering in the slight evening breeze. "He is a bit of a romantic, you see. He is an avid believer in peace and bitterly resents the presence of soldiers, irregardless of their cause."

"I understand him."

"Yes, he is a simple man. All he wishes is to be left alone with his relics in peace."

"I guess everyone wishes to be ultimately left alone." Natasha said. "Even soldiers wish that. What about you? What do you think of our presence here?"

"Believe it or not, Captain." Constance Smythe smiled as she continued to stare out into the quiet, dusty streets. "I too am a believer in the Star League. It is the one thing that could unite us all in peace."

"Peace, the one thing everyone wishes for but it seems that we are cursed forever to be in war." Natasha mused.

"Is that what you believe, Captain? Is that why you are a soldier? Do you accept the inevitability of war as a part of human existence, just like the Clans?"

"To tell you the truth, I never cared much for politics." Natasha said. "Living and dying is all that matters to me."

"And so you would rather be the one to kill than be the one to be killed?" Constance Smythe said. "I envy your simplistic attitude."

"Soldiers just fight. As far as politics goes, I leave that up to the politicians." This was getting nowhere so Natasha decided to change the subject. "Is this an exact replica of the city of Babylon?"

Dr. Constance Smythe's eyes lit up. The Black Widow had brought up a subject that she was a bona-fide expert in. "Almost to the T. With a few, very significant exceptions."

"Such as?"

"The original Babylon in Terra was built in between two rivers in Mesopotamia. The Euphrates was in fact diverted so that it could flow into the city. This particular replica was built on a stone plateau; there are no rivers on this planet."

"So its not an exact copy then?"

"No. Another strange deviation is that while the original Babylon had open sewers that ran waste into the river, this particular city has got massive sewer systems built underground, practically hewn into the hard rock. The building materials here are also much stronger, the Babylon in Terra used mostly dried mud bricks but it seems that most of the construction used in this particular city was solid rock." Dr. Smythe was clearly on a roll, having been given a chance to explain her life's work. "Why the builders of this city even bothered to create a massive sewage system on a waterless desert moon is a mystery to us."

"Amazing. Have you dated this city as to when it was built?" Natasha asked.

"This is the most remarkable part of all." Constance Smythe exclaimed. "We were able to carbon date the city to about 2000 B.C. That means that it was built at exactly the same time as its identical city in ancient Terra."

Natasha was startled. "Isn't that impossible?"

"We thought so too." The old archaeologist said. "But we confirmed it."

"Any theories about this remarkable revelation?"

"My dear, we may have stumbled upon the greatest mystery as far as the origins of humanity is concerned." Dr. Smythe said. "Now do you know why we are so reluctant to help you and thereby putting this city into harm's way? The fundamental answers to mankind's origins may well lie here. Imagine a city that is as old as from our supposed birthplace, here on a desolate moon? We have barely been able to scratch the surface of this enigma."

Natasha was clearly piqued now. "Have you found traces of the builders?"

"No. That is another great mystery we have yet to uncover. We have found no human remains whatsoever here." Dr. Smythe said. "It almost seems like the gods fashioned this city and then forgot to put people in it."

"This is just incredible." Natasha could barely believe what she heard as she played with the figurine in her palm. "I thought that throughout my travels I have seen it all. I guess I am now humbled."

Constance Smythe seemed to have noticed the glinting object. "What have you got there?"

"Just a figurine of some sort." Natasha handed it over to the older lady. "Do you know what it is?"

Dr. Smythe looked at it closely before handing it back to her. "Ah, this is _Pazuzu_."

"_Pazuzu_?"

"_Pazuzu_ is the demon lord of the desolate winds. He brings starvation and pestilence in his wake." Dr. Smythe explained. "He was both feared and worshipped by the Babylonians. He was not altogether malevolent, pregnant women would wear his symbol as a charm to ward off other types of demons that could adversely affect childbirth. Some myths would sometimes tell stories of him manifesting himself as an emaciated old man who travels the desert wastes."

The words hit Natasha like a clap of thunder. The Black Widow stood speechless for a while.

"Something wrong, my dear?" Dr. Smythe asked.

"I-it's nothing." Natasha stammered as she was still in shock. Was the old man a hallucination as she thought before or was he real? Could she have been visited by a mythical demon in disguise?

"The Jews called the Babylonians Chaldeans." Dr. Smythe went on. "The biblical myths tell of them being crass, decadent and greedy but all organized religion has traces of Babylon in it. The temples were the center of daily life. The main gods of Babylon were _Anu_, god of heaven; _Marduk_, chief god of Babylon; _Enlil_, god of the air and _Ishtar_, the goddess of love and war. As you can see, the largest buildings in this city, other than the palace, are the temples. You seem to remind me of one these gods."

"Oh, really?" Natasha said. She hadn't yet fully recovered from the shock of _Pazuzu's_ revelation.

"Oh yes, you remind me of _Ishtar_."

"The goddess of love and war?"

"The Babylonians considered her a goddess of great power and authority. Even the Greeks adopted aspects of her into their own religion; _Ishtar's_ war-like aspect became that of _Pallas Athena_ while her love and beauty intertwined into that of _Aphrodite_." Dr. Smythe said as she smiled at Natasha. "I can sense that you are a woman of incredible power. I can feel it."

"I'm just a human being." Natasha said. "As fallible as any other."

Dr. Smythe turned and faced back into the distance, there was sadness in her voice. "It would be a great tragedy if this city was destroyed. We could find so many answers as to who we are and where we may have come from. I was hoping that we could reveal the existence of this city at the next Star League Conference, perhaps it may even be the glue that will enable us to work together and finally live in peace."

"That's the rub, isn't it?" Natasha too stared out into the twilight walls and into the starry night. "The concept of peace seems so elusive to us all."

"I hate war." Dr. Smythe said. "It is nothing but pure evil."

"Von Clausewitz said that war is nothing more than 'an extension of politics by other means.'"

"War is insanity, a creature of evil that feeds upon itself, spitting out the carcass of its victims into a sea of blood." Dr. Constance Smythe said.

"So war to you is just about killing and destruction? When a caterpillar eats a radiant, golden flower so that it may one day become a beautiful winged butterfly, is that evil?"

"Animals don't make war. People do."

"There were studies made on higher primates in the late Twentieth Century which states that chimpanzees go on rampages to kill and even cannibalize their own kind; lions kill hyenas not for food but for sheer sport. Animals make war as well, Dr. Smythe." Natasha said.

"But we should be above this. We are not animals."

"Take away man's tools and he is nothing more than a hairless ape." Natasha continued to stare out into the heavens. "Take away the things that make him civilized and I assure you he will become a raging beast who will care for nothing but his own survival."

"You may have a point there, Captain." Dr. Smythe said. "But man has a soul and a mind to better himself. Animals accept what they are. We can make the world a better place."

"So the world will be a better place if we have no wars, then? Is that what peace to you is? A lack of war?"

"Peace is being able to wake up and see the sunrise; it is being able to feel the wind and share in the wonderment of all the things before you." Dr. Smythe mused. "It is about being able to share a little happiness with someone you love."

"I see." Natasha said. "Peace is about hope for a better day."

"That is one aspect of it, yes." Dr. Smythe smiled. "A thousand years ago, at the end of Terra's Second World War, an Allied military psychologist at the Nuremberg War Crimes Trials once said that the true definition of evil was one's lack of empathy for their fellow human beings. War gives people an excuse to abandon their understanding for one another."

"War is controlled violence, for a specific purpose." Natasha said. "I don't know if you consider all soldiers as being part of an evil profession, Dr. Smythe, but what I can tell you is that I had a vision out there, in the desert. A voice said to me that sometimes one must fight in order to bring about a better world."

"I actually thought that all soldiers needed to be inherently evil." Dr. Smythe said as she continued to smile at her. "But I now feel that I may have misjudged you, my dear. You are a great warrior of light to ward away the upcoming darkness. Although I may still disagree with your methods, I understand the necessity of it now."

A voice from the street behind them spoke out. "Captain Kerensky?"

Natasha turned. "Yes, what is it?"

"I have been ordered to fetch you." It was the _Amerigo's_ Navigator. "We have exposed a Capellan intelligence operative and she has in her possession something of great value that the Blakists want."

Dr. Constance Smythe and the Black Widow faced each other with identical, ironic looks in their eyes.

"Lead the way." Natasha said as she began to follow the DropShip's Navigator towards the Royal Palace.


	23. 21 Legacy

As the holovid played on a portable Tri-Vid projector, the entire audience of the grand dining hall of the Royal Palace sat in complete silence. Once the video stopped playing however, the entire room instantly erupted into chaos as everyone began to passionately discuss and debate on what had just been revealed. The shouts and arguments carried on into the once tranquil desert night.

"Everyone, please! We need order!" Carlos Sanz shouted as loud as he could so that they could have a chance to explain everything. Within a few minutes, the furor died down and everyone turned their attention to him. Sitting beside Sanz near the front of the hall were Major Dominic Durant, Baroness Mishai Singh, Mandrissa Monika Lee and Captain Natasha Kerensky. At the far end of the room, Jessica Bradshaw sat on a folding chair, she was being carefully watched by Chifune Kishikawa and a few other bodyguards.

One of the archaeology students stood up. "What is the meaning of this?" She cried.

"Okay," Dominic said as he stood up from his folding chair, "I will try to explain what you had just seen. First of all, this Tri-Vid recording was taken from a crewman of the DropShip that we were being transported on. It seems that the Blakists wanted this datadisk so that they may contain the spread of the video that we had just seen."

"But why would they want to do that?" Richie Hoyt, another archaeologist asked. "That Tri-Vid was a previously unknown recording of Jerome Blake's last will and testament. What's wrong with that?"

"What's wrong with it?" Natasha argued. "Blake said in the video that he considered Conrad Toyama to be a 'dangerous, misguided fanatic'. Those were his very own words. It is apparent that he did not want Toyama to succeed him and be the next _Primus_ of ComStar."

"We all know that Conrad Toyama succeeded Blake as _Primus_ upon his death and he radicalized the Order into a theocracy." Dominic further explained. "In fact, much of the Blakist theology is centered more on Toyama than on Blake himself."

"How do we know that this video was not faked?" Professor Adrian Smythe asked. "Can you vouch for its authenticity?"

"Although I am not one-hundred percent sure as to it being the real thing," Dominic said, "I did a short biometric analysis on my noteputer using voice and image recognition. Although I could use an HPG database to completely confirm it, I can tell you that it is almost certain that the old man who spoke from his deathbed in the video was indeed Jerome Blake."

"And not to mention that the Blakists have killed to try and get to it. Seems like an admission of guilt to me." Natasha added.

"Don't forget the last part of the video." Dr. Mordecai Dayan said. "Blake also said that if a new Star League was ever reformed, ComStar would return control of all HPG stations back to the League and the Successor States. ComStar would in effect, disband itself and would only serve as librarians and preserve the knowledge of how to construct and maintain the technology, but the power of communication would revert back to the League."

With Dr. Dayan's last statement, the entire room once more erupted into chaos. Sanz had to shout once again to maintain order. Dawn was already approaching, but the revelation was keeping everyone wide-awake. Karen Udeze served coffee but she too was mesmerized by this potent disclosure.

"So what you are saying is that the Blakists view this Tri-Vid as a threat to their very existence and they will go at any lengths to get it back?" Another student asked incredulously.

"Yes." Dominic said as a matter of fact.

"What if we hide it or destroy it? Will that stop them from killing us all?" Dr. Constance Smythe asked.

"I don't think so." Dominic said. "They think we might already know about it and they do not want any witnesses who have seen the video to remain alive."

"Then by allowing us to view this Tri-Vid, you have condemned us all to die!" A female student accused Dominic.

Baroness Mishai Singh raised a hand to try and calm the furor that immediately erupted following the charge. "There is more to it than that. What I am about to tell you is strictly classified but since this revelation is of great importance then it is only right that I tell you this now."

The rancor immediately died down as everyone waited for her to speak.

"Once the Tharkad Conference ends, there will be no more Star League." Baroness Singh said softly.

A silence permeated across the entire room that one could possibly hear a pin drop. Within a few minutes, a few gasps were heard as everyone's minds began to absorb what had just transpired.

"What?" Even Carlos Sanz was aghast. "How did you get at this information?"

"It is an admission that has been discussed at high-level meetings in the Federated Suns Command." Baroness Singh said. "The Second Star League was created as an excuse to fight the Clans. Now that the Clan threat has diminished, there is no longer any reason for its continued existence."

"But what about unity? What about peace?" Richie Hoyt wailed.

"It was just a matter of time." Mandrissa Monika Lee explained. "Despite all the proclamations, every First Lord has used the power of the Star League to gain an advantage over the other Successor States during his or her term. Our esteemed Chancellor knew this and that is why he chose not to attend the Conference."

"So all this talk about universal brotherhood has been for nothing?" John Shive added to the furor. "What about the common people like us? What are we going to do now?"

"There is one hope." Dr. Dayan said. "The revelations of Jerome Blake's last will."

"How will that help?" One of the students asked. "We are doomed no matter what."

"Can't you see?" Dominic argued. "If we can get this information revealed before the Tharkad Conference ends, it will give impetus to keep the League together. Imagine the Successor States getting their HPGs back under their control. Imagine the Star League being in control of the main communications network of the Inner-Sphere!"

"But how do we get it to the Conference?" Professor Adrian Smythe asked. "Hasn't it started already? What about the Blakists? They are still out there trying to kill us!"

"If we stall for time, a rescue mission may come and get us." Dominic lied. He knew that no one knew where they were but he needed to give everyone in the room a sense of hope, even if it was a false one.

"You want us to resist the Blakists until help comes? That's suicide! We are not soldiers." Professor Smythe complained.

"Look," Dominic said, "we have in our hands the power to preserve the Star League. If the Blakists find us before the rescue mission does, it will be a fight. I am asking for anyone that believes in the unity of mankind to help me. I won't force anyone to fight for our cause but if the Star League does unravel, which it will if they don't get this Tri-Vid, then there will be war anyway. WOB views this datadisk as a heresy that must be contained no matter what for it will be their death-knell if it is ever made public. They will kill you even if you try to surrender anyway. As far as I'm concerned, I have nothing to lose now. What about the rest of you?"

The silence returned once again as each person present began to make their own internal decisions as to what they wanted to do.

"Major Durant?" Dr. Dayan said to Dominic.

"Yes?"

"Can we have an hour's recess please?" Dr. Dayan asked.

"Of course." With that, Dominic got up from his chair and walked out into the Palace anteroom. Massive, wide-open windows exposed the room to the clear desert sky. A trace of light could be seen on the horizon. A new day was dawning, but would he still be alive to watch another dawn after this one, he wondered. Dominic sighed as he rubbed his forehead. A great headache was beginning to gnaw at his mind once again.

"That was a great speech." A voice behind him said. Turning around, Dominic saw the Black Widow was in the room as well.

"Wasn't much of a speech," Dominic smiled, "more like a statement of reality."

"I especially liked the part of the rescue mission."

"Yeah, I know that was a lie. But I had to say something. Just to give them hope even though there isn't any." Dominic sighed.

He was instantly shocked when Natasha smiled. It was the biggest smile he ever saw her make.

"There is always hope." She said. "Never forget that."

Footsteps coming from the hallway instantly made them turn in the direction of the door. In came Dr. Mordecai Dayan and Baroness Mishai Singh.

"We took a vote." Baroness Singh said.

"And?" Dominic asked.

"It's unanimous. We will fight." Dr. Dayan said.

"Thank you." Dominic said. "We need to prepare immediately. I don't know if we have already been pinpointed, this city won't be missed in a search."

"Dr. Dayan, do you have any engineers in your expedition here?" Natasha asked.

"Yes, we have two." Dr. Dayan answered. "One is a structural engineer and the other one is a mechanical one, he operates the drill."

"Drill?" Dominic's eyes opened wide.

"It is an industrial drill that we can use for heavy excavation." Dr. Dayan said. "We can dig massive holes into the rock and sand so that we can explore and dig up artifacts. It also has a blower module that we use to clear the constant sand that seeps into the city."

Natasha and Dominic looked at each other and smiled. Baroness Singh raised her left eyebrow in confusion.

Within the next few hours, an impromptu meeting was set up with the military and engineering personnel. Aside from Natasha and Dominic, most of the bodyguards were in attendance as well as Moses Malone and the other engineers. It was a brainstorming session to try and find the best way to defend the city. Ancient histories of past sieges were discussed as all ideas were put on the table.

"First of all," Dominic said, "this is an open meeting so don't hesitate to say any idea that comes in your mind."

"_Archimedes_ made giant claws to grab onto the Roman ships and capsize them during the siege of Syracuse." One of the engineers said.

"We aren't exactly surrounded by water." Dominic laughed. "But keep those ideas coming."

"Should we set up strongpoints?" One of the Capellan bodyguards asked.

"We could center them in the temples, but that is what the Blakists will be expecting. It's too static." Natasha said.

"I thought that was the plan?" Dominic said.

"I thought so too, but it's too predictable. They will be prepared for that." Natasha said. "They won't be afraid to level any buildings here, and they have the firepower to do it too."

"Will they come in with guns blazing, after an artillery barrage?" Moses Malone asked.

"If they aren't very experienced, yes. But that ruins the element of surprise. In nighttime combat, the element of surprise is essential." Natasha said. "Over a thousand years ago, the Israeli army perfected the best tactics for night-fighting; a silent run until you get to the enemy positions, at the time of darkness the human reaction will tend to be one of disbelief, at first. That gives the attackers a few precious seconds to get within range. Then they use grenades to open up the enemy lines, then hand-to-hand fighting. No prior artillery or cover fire until they get close, that's my feeling."

"How do we counter that?" Dominic asked.

"Trip wires and booby-traps. If we know when they are coming, we could concentrate our limited firepower in that direction." Natasha said; then she turned to Malone and handed him a piece of paper. "We need to set up prepared defenses, I have a list of the projects that need to be done as soon as possible."

"I'll get right to it." Moses Malone said as he got up and beckoned the other engineers to follow him.

"So if we don't use strongpoints, what then?" Dominic asked.

"You remember the studies of the first Chechen War in Russia during the late Twentieth Century?" Natasha said. "The Chechen guerillas did not use strongpoints, they deployed mobile hunter-killer groups to harass the Russian armored columns as they entered the city."

"We could do that. But command will be decentralized then, with all those groups running around." Dominic observed.

"It will have to be. That's urban warfare, after all." Natasha said. "Four teams of say, twenty men each. Each team will have light anti-vehicle weapons, or LAWs so that they could take out any vehicles as well as satchel charges for up-close demolitions."

"This is going to be close." Dominic said.

"Like I said before, the outcome won't be in doubt." Natasha said. "We will need a fall-back plan in case the worst thing happens." She didn't imply that it was a certainty, even though she knew it would be.

"The archaeologists told me they will have drawn up maps for us that we could use." Dominic said. "I'll hand it out as soon as we get it."

"I had a talk with Dr. Constance Smythe a few hours ago." Natasha said. "She said something that piqued my interest."

"What about?" Dominic asked.

"She said that this city is an exact replica of the city of Babylon with the exception of its sewers." Natasha smirked as she thought of another daring plan.

As the defenders began to prepare for the inevitable, a tiny unmanned drone plane flew over the ancient city. The morning sun added to the visual obviousness as the Gnat's cameras recorded every aspect of it.

_Adept_ Achmed Faud activated the recording session as he pinpointed the proper coordinates into the computer. Getting up from his chair in the new Command Bunker near the DropShip landing site, he then opened up the bunker's comm. circuit.

"_Precentor_, this is _Adept_ Faud. I think I may have found them." He said.


	24. 22 The Snowflake

When he was a child, he once thought that snowflakes were little stars that fell down from the sky. Being a small boy, he never really cared to understand and took things at face value. When his mother read him a story about snowflakes as he sat with his head in her lap on the _tatami_ mat, he would often wonder and imagine, as each snowflake would descend slowly until they would fall into the little garden at the back of their house in the tranquil valleys of Kajikazawa. As he got older, he finally understood that snowflakes were nothing more than ice crystals but that did not dampen his interest. He learned that no two snowflakes were ever truly alike; each one was a unique art of nature. As the water molecules in ice would form a hexagonal lattice, the faceting would branch out as the snowflake began to expand outwards and form complex patterns depending on the varying temperatures as they fell towards the ground. There were many winter days and nights when he would just sit for hours in their frozen little garden, catching every little snowflake he could find and marveling at the uniqueness of it.

Lieutenant Lewis Sorenson sighed as he stared out of the window of his quarters as the snowflakes drifted on by. The winters in Tharkad were cold, not unlike the winters he once experienced as a boy growing up in the Combine. How he wished he could be a youth again, to take everything at face value, not to question but to embrace everything with an innocent devotion and wonderment that only a child could have.

But a cold, hard reality snapped back into him as he sat by the frosted windowsill. The commander of the unit he belonged to was missing, along with the last batch of delegates for the Conference and no one knew where they were. Lewis Sorenson trembled with worry and apprehension.

Within his blood not only flowed that of the legendary Sorensons, the guardians of freedom for the former Draconis Combine district of Rasalhague, but also that of the Kurita dynasty. During the early years of the Combine, the ruling Kurita nobility was usurped by the Von Rohrs, an illegitimately related line of tyrants that then ruled the Combine for nearly a century. But when the Von Rohrs attempted to enforce their harsh rule over the Rasalhague district, Lord Daniel Sorenson defied them and maintained honor and freedom within the planets of the district until a rebellion wiped out the Von Rohrs and returned legitimate rule back to House Kurita. The Sorenson clan intermarried with the ruling Kuritas and a few families moved into the interior of the Combine; Lewis Sorenson himself was a mixture of Scandinavian and Oriental descent. The Sorenson name was venerated across the Combine and became a symbol for uncompromising devotion and honor, even in the face of overwhelming odds.

But despite his tranquil upbringing, Lewis Sorenson became a rebellious but talented MechWarrior. Although achieving superb battle scores during his term at the Sun-Zhang Academy, his loyalty rating was considered questionable and he had to endure days of hazing from his instructors. But Sorenson possessed the will of his family's namesake and his exasperated teachers ultimately discharged him from the academy due to his political instability. After drifting for a few years as an outcast because of his complete and utter disdain for authority of any kind, Sorenson hooked up with the Second Night Stalker Regiment almost by chance. The Night Stalkers were in a way, outcasts as well. Created by the legendary Lloyd McGavin, the Night Stalkers were a composite unit made up of old, retired DCMS officers who still wished to fight for the Dragon but were forcibly cashiered by the High Command as well as younger MechWarriors who were rejected by the more traditional regiments.

It was a unique tradition that each new recruit into the Night Stalkers would be paired with one of the older veterans who serve as a mentor to the younger MechWarriors. The older officers lovingly nicknamed their younger counterparts _Padawans_, in deference to an old Terran holovid. As the second Star League came into being, the Combine colluded with the other Inner-Sphere powers and the Nova Cats to destroy Clan Smoke Jaguar. The first phase of this campaign to liberate the Combine worlds under the Clan yoke would be named Operation Bird Dog. Small teams of volunteers as well as Special Forces units would be inserted deep inside the Smoke Jaguar Occupation Zones and would wage guerilla war as well as being the advance units for the new Star League invasion force. These volunteer units would effectively disrupt Smoke Jaguar supply lines and engage the local garrisons in order to keep them busy until the main invasion force of SLDF troops could arrive.

Not surprisingly, Sorenson was able to convince his older mentor to volunteer as part of an ad-hoc unit and be dropped behind enemy lines. In the hellish campaigns that followed, Sorenson and his team were able to engage several Smoke Jaguar units and successfully kept up the pressure until the Clan enemy began to flounder. But then, tragedy struck. After the successful campaign to liberate Port Arthur, Sorenson's volunteer unit of Night Stalkers and DEST commandos were sent in to reinforce the beleaguered guerilla forces on Luzerne. Sorenson became the sole survivor when his entire unit was virtually destroyed by the vengeful Smoke Jaguars and it was only through his sheer tenacity and deadly skills that enabled him to not only survive but to prevail. His leadership skills became evident after the tragic loss of his older mentor when he assumed command of numerous guerilla units providing successful hit-and-run attacks against the more heavily armed Clan defenders.

When the battles were finally over, Sorenson was in line to receive one of the highest decorations to Combine soldiers, the Katana Cluster, a military award to the MechWarrior with the highest number of BattleMech kills. Having already been awarded the Bushido Blade for his courage and leadership, Sorenson was destined to move up the ranks of the DCMS hierarchy, he had an unbeatable combination of deadly skills, superb tactical leadership and the advantage of his royal heritage. But when the DCMS High Command began a post-battle analysis, it revealed that Sorenson had purposely disobeyed direct orders from more senior officers numerous times in deference to the safety of his men. Just like the man who created the Night Stalkers, Lewis Sorenson cared too much for the soldiers under his command and refused to commit to tactics that would have surely gotten them all killed. After the findings, he was stripped of not only his awards, but placed on suspension from the Night Stalkers with a pending court-martial to come. Not waiting for the axe to fall, Sorenson headed out to Federated Suns space, where he used his skills and experience as a freelancer during the devastating FedCom Civil War.

It was as if by destiny that his personal records were somehow appropriated by General Galen Cox of the SLDF's Intelligence Command. Cox was attempting to form several covert, special forces units to meet the increasing demands of the newly formed Star League military. One such unit was a new Black Widow Company, headed by an enigmatic woman who not only looked like Natasha Kerensky, but resembled her in every which way imaginable. Almost on a whim, Sorenson accepted the invitation to train with the new unit. A battalion of the best MechWarriors from across the Inner-Sphere then engaged in one of the most intense and grueling training regimens ever devised. Sorenson took it all in stride as the attrition rate soared and the original battalion was whittled down to company size. By then, Sorenson was one of the prime candidates for lance commander. The other finalists for command included the bastard son of "Gentleman Johnny" Clavell and a mysterious mercenary who seemingly came out of nowhere. John Clavell's son Jimmy was a daring and inventive commander but lacked finesse and was prone to recklessness and he ultimately ended up commanding the Wolf Spider Lance, a unit that was as adept in risk-taking as he was. The final candidates were Sorenson and the Monk; what ultimately won it for Sorenson was that the Monk was somewhat too distant to the rest of the unit while Sorenson had a little bit more respect. In time, the Monk relented to command the heavy Tarantula Lance and Sorenson became the _de-facto_ Executive Officer, second-in-command only to the feared Black Widow herself.

And now, with Captain Natasha Kerensky herself having gone missing, Sorenson was now the acting commander of the Widows. It was an unexpected circumstance, but he needed to lead and lead them well. The unit was currently stationed within the confines of the Triad, a small city that housed not only the government of the Lyran Alliance in Tharkad, but also the ongoing Star League Conference as well. Although most of the security for the delegates was being provided by the Lyran Alliance Armed Forces, there was also a small contingent of SLDF troops that were present, including the Widows.

A knock on the door instantly sent Sorenson's mind back to reality. "Come in." He said.

A fair-haired youth came in, dressed in an all-black jumpsuit with red stripes on the sides; it was none other than Christopher MacLaren, a MechWarrior from Jimmy Clavell's lance. Being the newest and youngest member of the Company, MacLaren was nicknamed the "Spy", having just been transferred in from Wolf's Dragoons. It was rumored that he was accepted in order to act as the eyes and ears for Colonel Jaime Wolf himself. The others continually chided him for that and the youth was clearly uncomfortable about it.

"Lieutenant, someone is wishing to see us all in the briefing room." MacLaren said.

"Any idea who it is?" Sorenson queried. Unlike MacLaren, he was dressed in a black tunic, knee-high boots and wore a dark traveling cloak favored by wanderers of Terra's ancient past. Captain Natasha Kerensky never opted for a standardized dress uniform for the Widows; therefore everyone wore the uniforms from the units that they had come from previously. Sorenson's outfit was from his parent unit, the Night Stalkers, but it did have the patches of a black widow spider and a blackened, eight-pointed Cameron star on its side, just like everyone else.

"Nope. He doesn't seem to be part of the security contingent, just a civilian."

"Where are the others?"

"I think my other lance mates are in the mess hall, I don't know where the Tarantulas are at."

"They are probably at their quarters, see if you could drop by there and tell them to get over to the briefing room; the quarters will be on your way to the mess hall anyway, I'll get the rest of the Command lance. What about Lieutenant Clavell?"

"I think I saw him leave the barracks a few hours ago."

Sorenson sighed. If it weren't for his vaunted skills, Clavell would have been busted from the unit a long time ago. "Okay, get who you can. Meet you all in the briefing room." He said as he walked out and started down the corridor.

"Yes, sir." MacLaren replied glumly as he started down the opposite direction to where the other quarters were. He felt that he was being treated like a second-rate teammate, even though he had been with the Widows since their inception. Whether it was his age or they just didn't trust him because he came from the Dragoons, he just didn't know. As he stopped towards the eighth door on his right, he knocked softly.

"Come in." A gravelly voice said from the inside.

As MacLaren opened the door, he noticed that the lights inside the room were off. He could see a small glow coming from a cigarette as it was seemingly trailed in a sea of utter blackness; it was obvious that the blinds were closed as well. Because he was standing in the doorway, the shafts of light shone into the room and bathed it in a still twilight as wisps of smoke could be seen floating across the dim shadows.

"Uh, sorry for bothering you." MacLaren stammered. He only knew the guy's call-sign and that he was one of the members of the Monk's Tarantula Lance, they were a group of enigmatic killers, much like their commander. He barely knew them, despite the fact that they had been together for almost a year now. "But Lieutenant Sorenson wants everyone in the briefing room right away."

"No problem, kid." The man answered as he straightened up from his bunk and walked towards MacLaren. The youth could see that the man was tall, clean-shaven and well built; he also had a chiseled face and that cold, thousand-yard stare that was a dead giveaway for an executioner. But it was the unemotional voice that always seemed to mesmerize him; it was always calm and calculating, like a bird of prey waiting for the kill.

"Ah, you know," MacLaren said, "All I know about you is your call-sign and that you were in the Carver V Campaign before you joined up with the Widows. What is your real name?"

"That is my real name." The man replied with a smile. "First name Pale, last name Rider."

"Riight. Okay." MacLaren decided not to push it. "I'll see to the others, then."

"You might as well go to the mess hall and get the rest of your lance, kid. Lieutenant Clavell is still AWOL." Pale Rider said. "I'll get the other Tarantulas."

"Thanks." Chris MacLaren smiled back, then returned to his glum self as he started to leave.

Pale Rider instantly sensed the youth's troubled state. "What's wrong?"

"Well, it's just that how come I always end up as Wild Weasel for my lance? I want a chance to pilot some of the heavies and assaults."

"When the time comes, you'll get your chance. You wouldn't have made it this far if you didn't have the talent." Pale Rider said. "For now, get as much experience under your belt and follow orders. Pretty soon you will get what you want, everybody always does. Being a Wild Weasel for the unit is an important job, you help the entire team by providing ECM and recon capabilities for us all."

"Okay, I'll do that. By the way, is it true what they say about your lance mate, Sudden Smith?"

"Smithy? What about him?"

"That he was one of the few survivors of the Gray Death Legion and he got hurt real bad and that half his body is made up of artificial prosthesis which has got hidden weapons and stuff. Is that true?"

Pale Rider smiled. "Why don't you ask him later?"

"No, thanks," MacLaren grinned as he started towards the mess hall, "he scares the hell out of me."

Pale Rider shrugged as he proceeded towards Sudden Smith's room. Everyone in the unit had a story to tell. A few of them had been from units that were destroyed and ultimately disbanded. He never bothered to ask Smith about his battle wounds. That was one taboo that veterans never discussed openly. Neither would they talk about their dreams of the men that they killed nor of the lovers that they lost, it was simply not done.

Within a few minutes, Chris MacLaren had made it into the mess hall. The moment he swung open the double doors he knew there was trouble; with a lance like the Wolf Spiders, there always was.

The room was a kaleidoscope of colors as food of all shapes and sizes were all over the floor. It would have almost been taken as an example of a harmless and juvenile food fight in a school cafeteria with the exception that there were about a half-dozen soldiers of the LAAF laying on the floor in assorted cases of injury and unconsciousness. A hostile crowd of still conscious Lyran soldiers was swarming around two men close to where the serving area was. Some of the Lyrans had split lips and bruised, blackened cheeks. It was obvious that the two were about to be assaulted by an angry, vengeful mob. MacLaren pushed through the crowd, hoping against all hope that it wasn't who he expected them to be, but he knew that it would.

With their backs towards each other and their fronts facing the opposite flanks of the angry crowd, Stilicho Jones and Johnny Gundam were prepared to sell their lives dearly if it came to that. Stilicho's formerly smoke gray combat fatigues were oozing red and yellow from assorted condiments and his black beret, the uniform of his father's unit, the Stilettos, was partially torn but it still retained the patch from the other unit he joined in prior to that of the Widows, the A-squared Archer's Avengers insignia. Gundam had a split lip and his formerly green and tan Seventh Crucis Lancers uniform had coffee stains all over it.

MacLaren swallowed hard. He had to make a choice, stand by his teammates and maybe endure a beating from the more numerous Lyrans or stand back and watch the spectacle. Realizing what he had to do in order to get accepted, MacLaren quickly dashed over to Stilicho Jones and Johnny Gundam as the three now faced over two-dozen angry LAAF soldiers. The crowd seemed to get ready to surge in and overwhelm them as shouts and curses got them going.

"What the hell happened?" Chris MacLaren said as he readied himself. He wasn't that experienced in brawls even though he did go through martial arts training just like the rest of the Widows.

"We had a misunderstanding." Stilicho smiled through his bleeding gums.

"Misunderstanding my ass!" One of the Lyrans shouted back, he had a blackened left eye. "They were cutting through the lines then they beat up some of us like dogs!"

"Filthy SLDF pigs!" Another shouted. "We are gonna get you for beating up our friends!"

"Come on then!" Gundam shouted back. "For every one of us, there will be ten of you with your butts wiping the floor!"

Just as the crowd started to surge forward and about to jump them, a shout reverberated from across the entrance of the hallway. "What's all this then?"

As a few people turned around, some gasped. The few ringleaders of the mob that was egging them on stopped and turned around with fear in their eyes.

It was Jimmy Clavell. Although he had been severely injured by an assassin just over a month ago, he was now fully recovered. Everyone knew what his reputation was when it came to fights and everybody knew that if they messed with his lance, they messed with him. Clavell stumbled forward in a drunken stupor as he eyed the crowd with menacing eyes. For a few tense seconds, no one said a word. Everyone knew that Clavell was liable to explode when he was drunk and it looked like he was several times over his body's alcohol limit in relation to the description of being intoxicated. There was nothing new about that.

"Your team beat up a few of us and we are gonna get even!" One of the ringleaders shouted to Clavell. "This ain't your fight!"

"Well I guess I am making it my fight." Clavell burped. "Now you boys put those broken bottles and chair legs down and we can behave like ornery folks."

"Say what?" A man from the crowd said. It was obvious that some of the mob were thinking that they could still take on the four of them.

Clavell made a stupid grin as beer dribbled down his mouth. "Well, we can't just let you take on those three kids. You outnumber them all, that's not a fair fight now is it?"

"Whose we, you drunken monkey?" One of the ringleaders said as he held out a steak knife menacingly.

Everyone's eyes instantly opened wide as Clavell drew his dual, customized Sternsnacht heavy pistols from the folds of his overcoat. "Stern and snacht and me." He giggled sheepishly, then made another loud burp.

By that time the crowd had lost its edge. Everyone who could run ran out of the mess hall, dragging their still unconscious comrades with them. Within less than a minute, the mess was empty with the exception of the Wolf Spiders.

"Jesus, that was close." Gundam muttered as he straightened up.

"Cowardly Lyrons, they ish all the shame…" Clavell muttered before stumbling over and collapsing. Everyone else ran over to him and they checked to see if he was okay.

"I think he's fine, just dozed off." Stilicho muttered as he examined Clavell's head.

"We need to get to the briefing room near our quarters, someone wants to speak with us." MacLaren said.

"Well, help us then." Stilicho muttered as all three men started to carry Clavell's sleeping form towards the mess exit.

"Damn, he is heavy." MacLaren complained as he took hold of Clavell's legs.

"Try carrying his shoulders." Stilicho grimaced as he hefted Clavell's arms and started moving him. "We should get a stretcher." He added through clenched teeth.

"Why did those Lyran soldiers attack you guys?" MacLaren asked as they carried the snoring Clavell across the corridors.

"They didn't exactly attack us." Gundam said as he helped Stilicho Jones in hefting Clavell's upper body. "We cut in the chow line and one of them insulted us."

MacLaren grimaced. These were the kind of people he was associating with? "Why the hell did you guys cut in the line then?"

"Cuz we felt like it." Stilicho smiled despite the strain.

MacLaren frowned even more. He was that close to getting clobbered and for what?

All of a sudden, Clavell tilted his head and began to vomit on the floor. All three men promptly dropped the drunkard as he kept puking.

"Eewww, what a mess." Gundam said as a matter of fact. "One more muddle for the Lyrans to clean up, if there is one thing that they are good at, it's cleaning up messes."


	25. 23 Assembly

"Lieutenant Sorenson, Your unit's reputation precedes you." The man wearing nondescript but formal clothing said. "Am I to assume that you are the commander of the Black Widow Company now?"

"Acting commander." Lewis Sorenson corrected him. "And who might you be?"

"My name is Peter Coetzee, and I represent the government of the Capellan Confederation." The man said. With the exception of their CO, the Black Widows all sat facing him in the small briefing room. Everyone else lay silent with the exception of Clavell, who uttered an occasional loud burp as he slowly began to wake up from his alcohol-induced swoon.

"You are not with the security liaisons, Mr. Coetzee." Sorenson said. "Yet you were somehow allowed into our maximum security barracks. Is this an official Capellan request? Don't you have to go through SLDF High Command first?"

Coetzee smiled. "This is unofficial."

"I see." Sorenson said. "Does this have something to do with Captain Kerensky?"

"Yes. My apologies for not bringing this to your attention sooner but it was only in the last forty-eight hours that we were able to pinpoint the location of the final batch of delegates for the Conference." Coetzee said.

"You are not with Star League Intelligence, Mr. Coetzee." The Monk said. "Yet you have highly classified intel reports. That could only mean you are with _Maskirovka_."

"Bravo, Mr. Monk. You are observant as always." Coetzee faced the Monk. "Our sources concerning you have still come up with a blank in regards to your background prior to joining Star League Special Forces. You are a true enigma."

The Monk smirked. "I like to keep my private life private."

"And you have succeeded, so far." Coetzee then turned his eyes towards Pale Rider. "Mr. Rider, you gave us quite a lot of headaches on Carver V, you killed both Jason Cho and Colonel Renard in single-combat, if I do recall."

Pale Rider said nothing as he just sat back, crossed his arms and smiled.

Coetzee then faced a compact, dark-haired woman who sat near the door. "MechWarrior Ravin, Considering that you left the Twenty-First Centauri Lancers in protest because of their capitulation in Operation _Odysseus_, I'm sure you would like a chance to get back at the Blakists, yes?"

"Get to the point, Coetzee." Sorenson's temper was getting the better of him. "Where is Captain Kerensky?"

"We believe that she is located in an uninhabited system in Free Worlds League Space." Coetzee said as a hush fell over the room. "Captain Kerensky, along with the delegates, is under attack by a WOB unit."

Sorenson was aghast. "What? Why?"

"Well, we actually had an operative traveling with them that was carrying something rather valuable and ROM found out about it, I'm afraid." Coetzee said.

"What is it?" The Monk asked.

"It is a datadisk. That is all you need to know." Coetzee said brusquely. "We need that datadisk before the Conference ends."

"You knew about this? Why didn't you warn Star League Intelligence Command then?" Sorenson said.

"We didn't believe that ROM could have executed a mission of this magnitude in so short a time." Coetzee explained. "When the delegate transport group missed our last checkpoint, that's when we knew there was trouble. It took us precious days to pinpoint their most probable location."

"So you knew about it all along." Sorenson was getting angry. "You took a risk with your operative acting as a courier and the whole mess exploded in your face and now you want somebody to clean it up."

"That is pretty much it, in a nutshell." Coetzee was clearly uncomfortable in admitting his bureau's mistakes. "From what we know, the delegates are outnumbered and outgunned. There is a very high probability that they may have all been killed or captured already, but since we have not heard of anything from the Blakist channels, we are assuming that WOB has not yet succeeded in retrieving the datadisk."

"You Liao bastards." Johnny Gundam said menacingly. "Our CO could already be dead and all because of your politics!"

"Cool it!" Sorenson told Gundam without taking his eyes off Coetzee. "Why us? Why not commit Capellan forces for this mission?"

"Because if anything goes wrong, they have plausible deniability." The Monk said as he looked at Coetzee who just smiled slyly. "Your great leader, Sun-Tzu Liao could deny any involvement on this if we screw up, on the other hand, he could claim a great victory if we succeed."

"You are very perceptive." Coetzee said. "We could not go to the SLDF for help and neither could we use our own forces. The FWL is a member-state of the Star League and since they are heavily influenced by the Blakists, if we had approached them, then WOB would have stymied us until it would be too late."

"And if we agree to this, we will be disobeying direct orders from SLDF Command." Sorenson added.

"Yes." Coetzee said softly. "That is the price you must pay for rescuing your CO."

"You seem to have thought of everything." The Monk said.

"That's why I have been promoted recently." Coetzee said. "Will you do it or not?"

"What have you got in mind?" Sorenson said.

"We have a command-circuit: a string of JumpShips that will hand your DropShip off after every jump until you arrive in-system. They are standing by as we speak and you should be making planetfall in less than twenty-four hours. We can give you some aerospace support but once on the ground it will be up to you. We need that datadisk." Coetzee explained.

Sorenson frowned. He hated these Capellans, they were always scheming to get ahead and now it seemed that the Widows were going to be at the short end of the stick. They probably didn't even care about the delegates nor did they give a damn about Natasha. To them, it was nothing more than a means to an end. But then again, when was it ever different?

"We need to talk this over." Sorenson said as he got up from his chair and faced the _Maskirovka_ administrator. "Get out."

Coetzee was stunned temporarily but then realized that Sorenson was just letting off whatever steam he could. But that was all he could do. "I'll wait for your answer outside, then." He kept his cool as he got up and left the room.

Almost immediately, a furious discussion started among the Black Widows. Everyone began to air his or her own points of view with the exception of Sudden Smith, who just sat there, and Jimmy Clavell, who kept on dozing.

"Capellan frakheads!" Stilicho Jones cursed. "We oughta take Sun-Tzu as a hostage and use him as a bargaining chip!"

"You wanna deal with his Death Commandos, then?" Gundam said sarcastically.

"I took on a few Death Commandos on Carver V, they weren't so tough." Pale Rider added.

"I don't mind the Cappies myself," Chris MacLaren said, "they did provide the unit with stealth armor for our customized 'Mechs, after all."

"That was because of General Cox, he 'appropriated' a shipment of stealth armor that was destined for the First Royal BattleMech Division. The Cappies would have never given us anything if they could help it." Stilicho explained.

"Let's do it!" Tara Ravin said. "I wanna get me a few Blakist heads."

"If we do this and not get it done, we could get stranded there by the Capellans." The Monk explained. "They hold all the cards, but we are the pawns."

"Alright, everybody! Listen up!" Sorenson shouted as everyone began to pay attention. "If we give this a go, say goodbye to your SLDF careers. General Cox will not sanction us on this one nor do we have the time to even tell him about this. We are gonna be lapdogs to Sun-Tzu Liao and his political machine. I just wanted you all to know this. If anyone refuses to go I won't hold it against you. But the Captain needs me and that's why I'm going. Make up your own minds. Anyone who wants to back out, raise your hands."

No one did.

"Alright then," Sorenson said, "Black Widows, mount up! We got a lady to rescue!"


	26. 24 Natures

They came towards late afternoon, when the sun was a fading yellow disk floating downwards across the blood red sky. Dust devils would occasionally throw up tiny whirlwinds of sand across the dune sea. As he adjusted his macro-binoculars, he could see that they paraded everything out in front, hoping to scare them all into surrendering without a fight. He could see about ten BattleMechs, all throwing little wisps of sand up into the air; like menacing iron giants of doom. Behind the gargantuan war machines he could see armored vehicles carrying men as well as tanks.

Dominic Durant frowned. He could tell from their domed turrets that they were Po heavy tanks. Although they used technology that stretched back to over a thousand years ago, those battle-tanks would still be as lethal as ever against unarmored and unprepared troops. He could also see a pair of Scorpion and Chevalier light tanks beside the 'Mechs. Helicopters overhead buzzed incessantly like shrill whispers in the desert winds.

Putting down his macro-binoculars as he lay stretched out on top of the city's southern wall, Dominic then keyed in his personal communicator. "What's your count on the choppers?"

"I count about five. Four Pintos and one Ferret." Chifune answered.

"Have you got your positions set?" Dominic asked.

"Been staking them out all afternoon, I got over a dozen prepared sniper posts ready." Chifune said over the scrambled comm. unit.

"Okay, over and out." Dominic said as he once again picked up his macro-binoculars and began to observe the forces arraying against them. A light tap near his foot instantly made him lower the binoculars and turn around.

It was Natasha Kerensky. "How is it going?"

"They brought everything but the kitchen sink." Dominic sighed as he took a sip of water from his canteen. "They want to show us just how much firepower they got out there in order to scare us into surrendering."

"You think they might try to negotiate before they attack?"

"Highly probable. They don't want to take any more casualties and the sun hasn't set yet. Like you said, they will attack as soon as night falls."

"Okay."

"How are the others?"

"Everybody is busy. All the bodyguards were giving weapons instructions this morning and now everybody is setting up defenses and preparing Molotov cocktails with the remaining fuel and the archaeologist's liquid soap supply."

"Malone and the other engineers?"

"Hard at work with the industrial core drill." Natasha gestured at the slight whining sound coming from the deserted streets. "Been busy since last night."

"So far so good." Dominic sighed as he slumped beside a stone wall.

Natasha sat down and turned her head in his direction. "Major Durant?"

"Yes?"

"Do you believe in destiny?"

Dominic smiled as he closed his eyes. In the calm before a battle, people always tended to get a little more philosophical than usual. It was almost as if everyone was trying to make peace with themselves and the world, just before all hell would break loose. "I believe that as long as someone struggles against his inner-nature, there is a chance to change his ways. But when he finally succumbs and accepts it all, then it's destiny."

"That is an interesting view."

"You know something? People always told me you were either a great impostor or the actual ghost of the real Natasha Kerensky." Dominic giggled. It was a gesture to partly get rid of the stress and also a slight sign of hysteria.

Natasha grinned. "Would you believe me if I told you that I was a clone of the original Black Widow and created by the surviving remnants of House Amaris to be their number-one assassin?"

Dominic let out a deep-throated laugh. He hoped that the other defenders who heard would not take it as a bad sign but he needed an outlet right now. "Oh come on! If things weren't so serious now, I would have recommended you for stand-up night at a Solaris comedy club!"

Natasha said nothing as she kept grinning and turned the other way.

His laughter soon subsided and he leaned over and clasped her shoulder. "As far as I'm concerned, Captain, it never mattered to me who you were or what you are. I'm just glad to have met you."

A whine of engines instantly made them alert as they both peered out with their macro-binoculars. A jeep with a white flag mounted on its roll bar began to approach the _Urash_ Gate. As soon as it got within ten meters, it instantly stopped and two white-robed men got out. One was quite tall, his head was shaved and what looked like facial tattoos covered most of his face. Natasha could see that he was wearing a MechWarrior's cooling suit underneath his white robes.

"Just as we suspected." Natasha said as she kept observing with her macro-binoculars. "They want to talk."

"Let's go, then." Dominic said as he got up and dusted off his uniform. "I'll get Sanz too."

As Amon Goth stretched his muscular frame while standing in the hot desert sand, three figures came out of the main southern gate of the ancient city and walked towards them. A medium-built man, dressed in a Star League uniform was accompanied by a beautiful, red-haired woman dressed entirely in black. The third man wore civilian clothing and had a Star League lapel near his collar. Goth realized that the rumors were indeed true. He kept his cool as they approached.

Dominic walked up to Goth as he stared at the much larger man straight in the eye. "Where is _Precentor_ St. Jamais? I only want to negotiate with the commanding officer.""

Goth stared at him for a long time. There was both hatred and anger in his eyes. "I am _Adept_ Amon Goth, Executive Officer for this unit. _Precentor_ St. Jamais greets you and demands your immediate surrender."

"I demand to speak with him." Dominic was adamant.

"Then you must come with me." Amon Goth countered.

"Maybe."

"You have my personal assurances that no harm will come to all three of you, including Captain Kerensky."

Natasha suppressed a smile. So they knew about her.

Dominic was still skeptical. "Oh really?"

Carlos Sanz kept quiet during the whole time.

"My word counts." Goth said with obvious menace. "You know of my records."

"Yes, I do. You refused to kill Clan prisoners during the mopping-up of Tukayyid and you also refused to press an attack on a ComStar outpost in Terra even though they were surrounded and had no heavy weapons. You are a man of honor and you only fight someone worthy of your stature." Dominic said. "But I wonder about your commander."

"Like I said, you have my word that no harm will come to you." Goth repeated.

Dominic smiled. "And if someone decides to lose his temper and shoots me while in your custody?"

"Then I will kill that man myself." Goth said.

"Alright then." Dominic grinned as he gestured back towards the city.

Chifune Kishikawa breathed a sigh of relief as she safetied her Minolta 9000 sniper rifle. So the enemy was at least willing to talk.

Natasha, Sanz and Dominic rode at the back of the jeep as it traversed a sand dune and then moved into the WOB staging area. Natasha kept quiet as she continued to make a head-count on every vehicle and infantryman whom they passed by. The Black Widow expected the Blakists to also include their battlesuits as part of their intimidation game but she was slightly disappointed that they didn't show them. Perhaps these Blakists weren't so confident in an easy surrender after all.

The jeep finally stopped in front of a prefabricated tent in the heart of the enemy camp. Although the heat was still quite intense, a slight breeze had come in from the mountains to the south as the sun began to set to the west. As she looked back, Natasha could still see the gleaming blue walls of Babylon near the edge of the horizon. She wondered whether the Blakists were intimidated by the huge size of the ancient walls and whether they imagined a horrific battle that lay ahead. Whatever the case, she had no illusions. Both sides would not negotiate their way out of this one. Now that the defenders knew the contents, they knew that the Blakists would never let them leave the desert moon alive. All that they were doing now was just sizing each other up, like two gladiators preparing for a duel to the death.

"You are to be searched before you go in there." Goth gestured towards the tent as a squad of WOB infantrymen surrounded them.

Dominic looked at Natasha. "Sanz and myself will handle the negotiations. Care to wait here?"

"No problem, Captain." Natasha said as the men searched them both thoroughly.

Dominic and Sanz were then led into the tent while Natasha just loitered outside, close to the jeep. As she kept observing the troops nearby, she noticed that Amon Goth had also stayed outside and was staring at her.

"So you are the Black Widow." Goth said as he approached her. "The pilot of the _Spartan_ is hoping that you will fight so that he can get a second chance at you."

"You can tell him that I will be ready." Natasha said. "Why aren't you participating with the negotiations?"

Goth smiled. "You and I know that these parleys will be futile."

"Perhaps. If that is the case, why did you agree to a truce then?"

"The _Precentor_ agreed to it, not me." Goth said. "But a truce is also useful so that one may size up the opposition, just like what you are doing right now."

"Shouldn't you blindfold me, then?" Natasha asked sarcastically.

"No. As you can see, the odds against you are not good."

"I know."

"But you will fight anyway." Goth laughed. "We are not so different, you and I. We are warriors to the core. We both hate politics and yet we realize the necessity of it. If we were not on opposing sides, I would welcome you as an ally and a friend. I have heard of your reputation through our intelligence network, they say that you are truly the Black Widow reborn."

"You are not like the others here, Goth. Why do you fight for the Blakists?" Natasha asked.

Goth looked out into the distance. "I am a soldier. Causes and such really do not matter much to me. It is the thrill of war that gives my life meaning, for '_war is the ultimate craft, and man is its ultimate practitioner_'. I always believed that even before mankind came upon this existence, '_war was already there, waiting for us'_. Nations, empires and kingdoms rose and waned from war, never from peace."

"So you've embraced it." Natasha said as she recounted what Dominic said to her about fate. "You have accepted your lot in life without question."

"Yes. And I am at peace with myself because of it." Goth said. "The Buddhist creed states that unhappiness is caused by desire. The need to want something that you cannot have; that is the cause of misery in the world. I, on the other hand, have everything I need. War will be coming across the Inner-Sphere, a war that will be more destructive than anything since the Amaris Civil War, and I will be there, right in the middle of it all."

"You will have to survive this war first." Natasha said softly.

Goth grinned as he pulled at his robe and began to walk away. "Then may the best MechWarrior win."

Dominic Durant and Carlos Sanz could see that the tent's white fabric had mathematical glyphs and symbols printed on it. It was almost as if they had ventured into the folds of a giant white robe worn by the Blakist priests. The effect was somewhat eerie but Dominic knew that it was done on purpose. A suspensor lamp made a bright illumination within the interior that cast long shadows over the various chairs and tables that were strewn with maps. Sitting in the center of the room was a man wearing the white robes of Blake's Blessed Order.

"I am _Precentor_ St. Jamais of the WOB Militia unit Heretic's Bane." The man said as he continued to sit and stare at the two Star League representatives. "May I offer you some coffee or tea, perhaps?"

"No, thanks. I recognized you from your private Tri-Vid movie." Dominic said as Sanz glanced at him nervously.

Brandon's demeanor instantly changed. What he had thought would be an easy capitulation by the delegates was beginning to turn into something wholly unexpected. He was not used to being on the defensive, much less so because of his seemingly advantageous position. "I see.. Who else has seen the vid aside from yourself?"

Sanz was about to say something but Dominic immediately cut him off. "Just me." The SLDF Intelligence Officer said.

"That is part of my personal belongings and I insist you return it to me." Brandon was beginning to get angry.

"In due time." Dominic smiled. He was playing a dangerous game but he was enjoying this. "But first, I must ask you to refrain from attacking us."

"I am not here to bargain!" Brandon's temper finally got the better of him. How he wanted to kill these two fools with his bare hands but he knew that if he violated the temporary truce there would be absolutely no hope to end the situation without bloodshed. "I am here to give you an ultimatum. Surrender peacefully now and I will be merciful."

"Could you explain that?" Sanz asked.

Brandon sat back as he began to calm down. "All we want is the datadisk and any copies that you might have made from it."

"Datadisk? What datadisk?" Sanz tried to make a bluff.

"Don't insult my intelligence." Brandon said tersely. "I am sure that by now you know of it and of its contents. Give it to me and you have my word that I shall let you all live."

"Forgive me, _Precentor_ St. Jamais, but I find this to be very hard to believe." Dominic said. "We know the contents of that datadisk and I'm sure that you will do anything to suppress that information. Why else would your operative transport us to the middle of nowhere? You just don't want any witnesses."

"That was an unfortunate turn of events. We did not expect you all to resist. We were supposed to board your DropShips and do a thorough search and once we did recover the disk, we would have let you all go." Brandon said.

"But you were late and things got out of hand. Then you resorted to using nuclear weapons." Dominic said, his anger rising as well.

"That was our last resort." Brandon said. "But I want this to end peacefully. I could use nuclear weapons now to flatten that ancient city of yours but I am trying my best to be merciful, even though my gesture is clearly not being appreciated."

"You're lying." Dominic said. "The reason you don't want to nuke us is that your ego won't let you. You want to recover that datadisk rather than to see it destroyed."

"Listen, my ego has nothing to do with this!" Brandon exploded again. "You know what is on that disk. Already there are factions within our Order that is threatening to undermine the unity of my cause and the only way to silence them is to publicly refute this within our own ranks. For that, I need the datadisk."

"And what about us, then?" Sanz asked.

"You will be kept under 'protective custody' so to speak, and once the Star League Conference is over, then you shall be returned to your respective homeworlds." Brandon said.

"So you will then let us go just like that?" Dominic said. "I find that hard to believe."

"Believe what you want. Those are my terms." Brandon said as a matter of fact. "Either do this my way, or face Blake's full fury. My mercy only extends up to this bargain, anything else and I will not hesitate to use all forces at my disposal."

"And so we surrender to you and act as if nothing has happened? What guarantees do we have?" Dominic said.

"None whatsoever. Either you expect my mercy or face my wrath." Brandon smiled. This time he was telling the truth.

There was no reply.

"Coincidentally," Brandon said, "I noticed there were other civilians present in that city of yours, who are they?"

"They are a privately funded archaeological expedition sent to unearth that city." Sanz said.

"And you brought them into this as well? Do they know that they are going to die?" Brandon said.

Now it was Dominic's turn to lose his temper. "We did not bring them into this!"

"Oh yes you did." Brandon was fighting the urge to laugh. Now he was beginning to enjoy himself. "If you had decided not to resist, you would not have their lives under your responsibility as well. In fact, if they do get killed, it will be on your head."

"My head? You bastard!" Dominic tried to rush the Blakist commander but Sanz grabbed his arms and held him tight.

"Remember that when the ancient Romans ever entered a city that tried to resist them, every soldier was under orders to kill every man, woman, child and animal that they could find. Tonight, I will take that city." Brandon said with apparent relish.

"No one ever successfully laid siege to Babylon." Sanz said as Dominic calmed down. "The Persians defeated the Babylonians outside, not inside."

"The Persians never had tanks, 'Mechs, or airpower. I have them all." Brandon upper lip twisted into a malevolent smile.

"I've heard enough. I'm going back to Babylon." Dominic said as he turned and started to leave.

"Major Durant, I hope that you will be democratic enough to explain what I have offered here?" Brandon said as the two men started to walk out.

"Of course." Dominic turned around to face him. "Unlike your 'Blessed Order', we decide by vote."

"Good. You have until dusk, which in my estimation will be in a few hours time. If I don't see a white flag flying on the southern gates of the city by then, I will know that my offer for peace has been rejected. Save your people, Major." Brandon said.

"I'll try." Dominic said as he and Sanz turned towards the exit of the tent.

"Oh, one more thing." Brandon called out just as Dominic opened the flap on the tent door. "You don't need to return my private video after all. I made a new one. The woman from the raiding party was quite.. exquisite. That's where I learned all your names from."

Sanz looked at Dominic who stopped cold. There was an eerie silence that went on for what it seemed like an eternity. With his face a mask of stone, Dominic resumed walking out of the tent. Sanz followed.

"I might do that again tonight if you give me the excuse." Brandon kept talking, as he knew that they were still within earshot of him as they left.

As both men walked towards the waiting jeep, Dominic's body trembled with rage.


	27. 25 Last Goodbyes

As the enemy jeep left them in front of the _Urash_ Gate and started back towards the staging area, Dominic Durant, Carlos Sanz and Natasha Kerensky walked back into the city of Babylon. The glazed blue bricks of the inner city had a purplish tinge as the blood-red sky added its own hues to the palette of reality around it. Natasha wondered if this would be the last time she would see such a sight.

"Did you have to provoke him like that?" Carlos Sanz said as the three started walking towards the Royal Palace.

"He is more evil than I thought." Dominic seethed. "He is a sick, sadistic bastard."

"What about his offer of a bargain with us?" Sanz said.

"Crap. Even if we cooperate with him, he will kill us all."

Sanz's lower lip trembled. He had now lost all hope. "How do you know that?"

"I could see it in his eyes and his tone of voice." Dominic said softly. "He wants us. Either way."

Natasha kept quiet as she tagged along.

"But there must be some way we can avert this." Sanz protested.

Dominic exploded. "You want to give up, then walk out that gate then!"

"No," Sanz said meekly, "if that was what he did to Captain De Llandes, I'll take my chances here."

"I'm sorry I shouted at you." Dominic sighed as his temper slowly drained out from him. "But you are right. He did that to Janice and he is just itching to do it to us. The man is a psychopath and his troops are fanatics."

Sanz looked up towards the Palace. "You know, one of my ancestors was with Santa Ana's army when they stormed the Alamo. Now, my ancestor's descendant will experience it from the other side of the fence."

"That's remarkable." Natasha said.

"Yes, I guess this means we won't even put his offer to a vote then?" Sanz asked.

"If you want to tell them, go ahead." Dominic said as he just stood there. "I will fight no matter what."

"I just don't have the heart to say anything to anyone anymore." Sanz let out a deep breath as he began to go up the stone steps to the Palace entrance. "I'll be with my team if you need me."

Dominic turned to Natasha, his eyes had that tired look; it was as if he had seen a thousand years go by in just a few days. "I will see _Precentor_ St. Jamais dead. I want you to promise me that if I don't kill him, you will."

"So he tortured and killed Captain De Llandes?" Natasha asked as she tied the back of her fiery red hair into a ponytail.

"Probably, just like his movies."

"When I get the chance, he is as good as dead."

"Thanks."

"Major, I need to change into my battledress." Natasha said. "We don't have too much time now."

"I know." Dominic said softly as he stared at her tanned, beautiful face. "Just stay in one piece and come back to us, okay?"

He was instantly surprised as Natasha put her arms around him and kissed him on the cheek. She had never shown any emotions to him before but in regards to their current circumstances, it seemed like a fond farewell.

"C-captain, I," Dominic could not find the words as he was overcome with emotion.

"I'll be back, Major." Natasha said as she began to walk to where she was quartered. "Just be here when I return."

Dominic gave her a nod as he started up the stone steps of the Royal Palace. Great stone statues of winged lions with the heads of bearded kings looked down at him as he entered the cavernous vestibule of the palace. All of a sudden, a slight panic seized him and he nearly fell to the ground, trembling. It was all too much; he had never been at this situation before. The faces of all the dead would drag his soul to the fiery hells. He never asked for this, it shouldn't have had to happen to him. Tears of hopelessness and frustration began to well in his tired, bloodshot eyes. His head spun, it seemed that reality was in a blur.

A voice instantly made him return to his senses. "Major Durant, are you alright?"

Dominic turned as he gathered himself together. It was Dr. Mordecai Dayan. "I'm okay, just feeling a bit fatigued." He said as he recovered quickly.

"How did the negotiations go?" Dayan asked.

"Bad." Dominic said. "We need to get all the teams assembled and deployed as soon as possible."

"Major," Dayan walked over until he was uncomfortably close that he could see the pupils of Dominic's eyes, "did you do your best for the sake of peace?"

Dominic did not blink as he stared back at the archaeologist. "Yes."

Dayan looked down for a minute and then went back to eye level. There was a trace of sadness in his eyes. "Very well. All of our lives are now in your hands, Major Durant."

"I know." Dominic said as he walked towards his quarters to get his laser rifle.

The sun had at last began to set on the horizon as Natasha started walking towards the _Adad_ Gate to the west. She adjusted the straps on her all-black cooling vest and combat boots, making minute adjustments so that she would be slightly more comfortable when she finally got into her 'Mech's cockpit. Her all-black _Warhammer_ was hidden in the jagged rocks to the east of the city. As the Black Widow made her way towards the massive gates, she saw Dr. Constance Smythe in work coveralls walk towards her.

"I just wanted you to have this, for luck." Dr. Smythe said as she pressed something into Natasha's gloved palm.

The Black Widow looked at it. It was a medallion of some sort, with a star engraving at its center and strange, mythical glyphs written along its circumference. "What is it?" Natasha asked.

"That was the first artifact I found when we started excavating this city. To me it was a good omen and I have kept it by my side ever since, until now." Constance Smythe made a slight smile as she once more stared back towards the ever-darkening horizon. "It is the symbol of _Ishtar_."

"This is priceless, Dr. Smythe." Natasha said. "I can't have this."

"Nothing is priceless. The cost of that medallion will be our lives. I have no daughters with which to leave my possessions to." Dr. Smythe said wistfully. "I figure that if anyone deserves it, it is you. May it give you good luck, Captain."

"Dr. Smythe, you are a civilian. Stay with the non-combatants at the Royal Palace. I'm sure that the Blakists will spare you."

"Did you know that the great library of Alexandria, the storehouse of knowledge in the ancient world, was destroyed by religious fanatics?" The tears flowed down her old, wrinkled eyes like little pearls. "I often wondered had there been a way to save those priceless works from the Greek playwrights and philosophers, would our world had been a different place? My students, they are nothing more than children. But they will fight, knowing that they will probably die, they resist knowing that if they fall so would the Star League. And if the Star League dies, so will the unity that we have all worked so hard to achieve will die with it as well."

Natasha placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "Don't lose hope, Doctor."

"Thank you, my dear." Dr. Smythe wiped the tears from her eyes. "May the gods smile upon you."

Natasha made a faint smile as she walked on. As the Black Widow tightened up her insulated gloves she nearly missed noticing another figure loitering near the gate. Chifune Kishikawa smiled as she walked over to her.

"Captain, I just wanted to wish you luck." The Otomo bodyguard said. Her Minolta 9000 sniper rifle was slung over her shoulder. "And to say that it was an honor to fight by your side."

Natasha tried to grin but she just barely made a smile. "We'll make it."

"I don't think so," Chifune giggled desperately, "but we shall go out in style."

"Take care."

"And you." Chifune acknowledged as she walked back towards the city center.

The Black Widow made a reflexive shrug as she walked out of the city gates and started to weave her way along the jagged rocks towards her hidden BattleMech.

Even as night had at last fallen, the men and women of the Star League delegation and the archaeological expedition continued to improvise and build defenses all over the ancient city. The liquid fuel from the trucks were mixed with liquid soap to make a crude form of napalm. Firing positions were dug and prepared in many buildings. Booby traps of all sorts, from sharpened metal spikes to makeshift tripwires were strewn all over the dusty streets and alleyways. Some of the more pacifistic members of the group were tasked to look after the wounded in the makeshift infirmary located in the heart of the Royal Palace. Dominic had given instructions that if anyone got separated from his or her team, he or she would make their way back towards the palace to regroup.

As the defenders kept preparing, so did the enemy. The Pintos and the lone surviving Ferret landed near the assembly area as special teams of LOM operators boarded the heavy-attack helicopters while the Ferret was refueled. LOM snipers took their customary places at the side doors so that they could provide covering fire on the troops below. The unmanned surveillance drones kept a constant flight over the ancient city, hopefully being able to spot and pinpoint any potential danger spots or even the locations of the enemy; when the fighting began, the Gnats would be able to provide a real-time tactical situation report for the WOB command staff. The tanks were checked and double-checked as they prepared to move into the city while infantrymen added extra ammunition and power packs for their weapons. Night-vision equipment was tested and retested to make sure that they were running smoothly. Some people ate while others slept near their vehicles; the veterans just tended to be nonchalant about it while the newly recruited ones paced around nervously as the butterflies in their stomach threatened to burst out and engulf them in a storm of anxiety. Everything was checked and double-checked as everyone waited nervously for the order to go out and kill someone.


	28. 26 The Watchtowers

His eyes were heavy and he was about to doze off. This wasn't the way he would imagine a war would go. The night was still, it was almost as if the entire planet had held its collective breath, waiting for something terrible to begin. He had been with his designated partner for god knows how many hours now, and still nothing seemed to be happening. Screw this war, he thought. His eyes were now drowsy and the comfort of sleep was just another blink away.

Richie Hoyt was one of the first to volunteer in order to fight. The moment he saw the vidtape of the dying Jerome Blake dispensing his last will and testament, Hoyt realized that everything he knew about ComStar and the Word of Blake just went out the window. If they could just somehow fend these fanatics off and get this vidtape to the Star League Conference then everything would be okay in the universe. That was the hard part.

But of course since he did not have any prior training or experience, it was decided that he along with a half-dozen other archaeology students with similar aptitudes man several listening posts near the city's northern entrance. With most of the defenders expecting the attack to come from the obvious southern gates, Hoyt and the others would serve as an early-warning system in case the Blakists might try to attack from the north. But so far, nothing was happening, neither an attack from the north nor from the south had occurred. The night was calm and peaceful, the darkness was overpowering.

It had been several hours since he heard a communications check from his personal comm. unit and so he felt that it wasn't all that important. He had been lying down in what looked like the lower story of a stone house near the _Sin_ Gate. As Hoyt looked around him in the barely visible darkness, he noticed that his partner had already fallen asleep beside her sleeping bag. He was thinking about waking her up and brewing some hot coffee when he heard a slight cracking noise coming from the street outside.

He was about to dismiss it as just part of the natural sounds of the night when it happened again. A dawning sense of fright nearly overwhelmed him when he realized that the slight cracking noises most probably came from the broken pottery that Major Durant had ordered to be strewn across the streets that afternoon. If anything of significant weight stepped on top of the pottery pieces, they would utter that very sound.

Although he was ready to fall asleep just a few seconds before, the dawning sense of reality snapped him back into an alert, unrelenting apprehension. For a brief moment he froze as sweat began to form on his brow despite the chill desert night. Precious seconds passed as he tried to remember the instructions on what to do. Fear gripped him and immobilized his body like the stone statues he was helping to excavate.

_Adept_ Jason Cornelius smiled within his Purifier battlesuit but since his face was behind over an inch of armor, no one noticed it. His select team of LOM operators had been secretly airlifted using the Pintos to the north of the city several hours before and now they were slowly and carefully making their way down the streets at the northern end of the city, undetected and unchallenged. One team of operators chanced upon a stone dwelling near the northwest gate and found two young women asleep in their sleeping bags, their communicators unchecked and flare pistols close by. A solid knife stab to their chests and a slash at their windpipes and it was all over. So the defenders were clever enough to set up listening posts, Cornelius thought. Not clever enough to anticipate the stealth capabilities of the Purifiers though.

Cornelius and his colleague were the only two battlearmor-equipped infantrymen in his squad as they carefully made their way through a deserted intersection. With their night-vision devices guiding them, the entire scene was in a hazy shade of green. How he wished that the other suits weren't damaged in that daring raid a few days before. Oh well, no time for recriminations, we seem to be doing fine, Cornelius thought as the mimetic effect of the Purifier's stealth systems allowed the armor to change colors so that it was literally blending in with its surroundings. Even with night-vision, it would be very hard to spot a slow moving Purifier. As he made another step forward, Cornelius inadvertently stepped on a piece of broken pottery that was left on the street the day before.

Richie Hoyt heard it again. The slight cracking noise that signified another clay piece was being stepped on by something heavy. Looking around, he then felt that they were all around him, so close that he could feel the stink on their breaths. Shadows seemed to drift along the open stone windows of the abode where he was. He dared not exhale or move a muscle; it was almost like they were right beside him as he heard of whispering and the industrial smell of weapon lubricants. He was propped up beside a wall in a hallway and he nearly died of fright as a humanoid figure, dressed in combat armor and looking like an armored robot literally walked right passed him as it entered from the window and exited through the inner corridor. Their night-vision goggles had a limited field of vision and that was what saved him so far. It was a good thing that the enemy soldier did not look down on the floor for he might have been easily spotted then. As beads of sweat trickled down and stung his eyes, Hoyt remembered his comm. unit. As he flicked it on, he noticed that there was no signal in it. Now what? He could see the heads of the enemy right outside the window in the room where he was.

As he looked around, he noticed the flare pistol that they were supposed to use was on top of a stone bench near the window, just less than a meter from the enemy. It was then that he decided and his whole life flashed before him as he got up and ran towards the flare, bounding right past a surprised soldier who tried to level his rifle at him but it was too late. Hoyt made it to the bench, calmly aimed the flare pistol towards the sky and fired just as he was instantly cut down by steel-jacketed slugs and suppressed laser beams. A small orange fireball erupted into the night for a few seconds before it was shot out by another laser beam.

Cornelius cursed. The defenders were now warned as he heard automatic fire begin to echo around the once quiet streets. It had begun. Now that the enemy knew they were coming in from the north, all the elements of surprise were over. They needed to put the squeeze on both sides of the city quickly, before the defenders could mount a counter-attack that could drive his small team of LOM operators out of the northern sector. "Main force, move in and engage any hostiles. Rendezvous with you at _Ishtar_ Gate." He said through his shielded comm. unit.

Just as Cornelius spoke those words, fire erupted all around him. It seemed that the street had all of a sudden come alive with the sounds of explosions. The LOM operators who were with him instantly dropped down to one knee as they scanned the streets with their night-scoped rifles in every direction. Almost immediately, several flaming glass bottles were thrown at them as the homemade Greek fire spew all over the squad. Several LOM infantrymen screamed as they struggled to douse the flames; a few tried to grab at their water canteens while the more astute ones realized it was napalm and started rolling on the ground, using the dust to wipe it off. Several bottles impacted on Cornelius' battlesuit as his Purifier armor began to glow like an amber piece of hot coal.

One of the defenders, a Federated Suns bodyguard who was firing from a stone roof, quickly saw the Purifier as it glowed from the napalm burning on it. He put down his rifle and quickly extended a LAW rocket launcher that he had slung over his shoulder. As a defender beside him began clutching at her neck from a laser beam that just opened up her jugular, the bodyguard maintained his composure as he calmly placed the LAW on his shoulder, aimed it and fired. Almost immediately, he was hit on the forehead by return fire and he slumped forward, his body dangling on the stone wall, his blood merging with the dust.

The LAW rocket impacted Cornelius right onto the chest of his Purifier battlesuit as he fell backwards onto the dusty street. The missile did not fully penetrate but it did disable his neuromuscular control and shorted the suit's electronics. For a few minutes, he had lain there in the dark, unable to move. The suit felt like a steel sarcophagus as some LOM technicians began to scramble to get him out of the damaged battlearmor while the other operators cleared the remaining ambushers. The battle turned once more in the side of the defenders however, when several operators started going down from headshots.

"Sniper!" A LOM infantryman shouted just before a 7.62mm slug entered his forehead, bounced around and exited from his noise, trailing brain matter along with it.

Within a few minutes, the first armored column came past the southern gates of the city. It was led by a Po heavy battle-tank, its armored treads making screeching noises as it chewed over broken pottery scattered on the ground. Heavily armored infantrymen followed close behind it, using the tank's metallic silhouette as cover. Hearing the gunfire and explosions from the city's north, the infantrymen trained their night-sighted rifles and machineguns along the side streets as their columns continued deeper into the city. Some of the more trigger-happy WOB soldiers fired at several different buildings, hoping to get a response but they were quickly chastised by their squad leaders for giving their positions away, even if the noise of their rumbling vehicles already did that.

As the first column made its way towards the city center, a stone slab shifted and then finally opened as several of the defenders emerged from the sewers. They could see the backs of the WOB infantrymen who were facing in the other directions but had neglected to look right behind them. Just as they were trained to do that afternoon, the defenders got to their prepared firing positions behind stone walls and improvised barricades and sighted their meager weapons carefully. A Capellan bodyguard immediately pulled a pin on the grenade that he was carrying and threw it at the large body of soldiers that were walking behind the Po tank.

One WOB soldier heard something rattle in front of him. As he pointed his laser rifle down to look at what it was with his night-vision scope, he immediately hollered that there was a live grenade. As the other soldiers began to scramble for safety, the grenade exploded, throwing the unfortunate infantryman clear across the street as the high explosive ripped into his body. As several soldiers began to scream from their wounds, the defenders began to open fire at the confused and hapless squad of men. Two were instantly cut down by well-aimed laser shots while several others were wounded as their body armor took most of the damage.

"Come on, move!" The Capellan bodyguard ordered as his team began to run away. Already the Po tank heard the commotion behind it as its turret began to traverse sideways. Most of the defenders made it to the safety of the next street but one tried to grab a weapon from a fallen WOB soldier. The Po's coaxial machinegun cut the man in half as he nearly made it round the corner; his blood then began to seep along the streets. The Po immediately reversed its engine and then turned as it began to rumble down the side street where the defenders had fled.

The heavy Pinto attack helicopters flew in a circle-eight pattern overhead, their LOM snipers hoping they could get a fix on a target. _Acolyte_ Rogelio Chavez was in Pinto Super-Six Four, leaning out from the side fuselage as far as his harness would go. He was frustrated, already he heard sounds of firing and explosions but he still had not identified any targets. He kept on scanning the ground though. He had a feeling he was going to get lucky tonight.

As the defenders ran into another side street, they ran smack dab into a squad of WOB soldiers that were on their way to reinforce their beleaguered colleagues. Several of the defenders froze in surprise while others ran in another direction. Their military training instantly taking over, the Blakists cut down three of the stunned defenders with short bursts and then started running after the remaining ones. One of the archaeology students took several rounds in the chest and was sucking in air as one of the WOB soldiers stopped, turned around and casually shot him through the head, spewing his brains onto the sand colored alleyway.

"Wait, wait." Dominic Durant ordered as his team crouched inside several buildings above. As several defenders ran down the street below them, Dominic quickly signaled his team to get ready. As if on cue, several WOB infantrymen began running down the street, trying to chase down the fleeing team. Taking careful aim with his rifle, Dominic held his breath.

"Fire!" Dominic shouted as he opened up with his laser rifle on the enemy squad below. Within a split-second, several grenades as well as a concentrated fire of lasers and metal-jacketed slugs tore into the pursuing WOB soldiers. All were cut down as the weapons ripped into them. Several still lived, however, moaning and bleeding on the street as several of Dominic's team came out of hiding and began to pillage their weapons and ammunition.

Chavez screamed at the Pinto pilot who saw a squad of his own infantrymen get cut down from an apparent ambush. Quickly leveling the Pinto for an attack run, the helicopter pilot fired several volleys of long-ranged missiles and the gunner opened up with his laser battery towards the building where the hostile fire came from. In a matter of seconds, the stone roof of the building collapsed, throwing up a huge cloud of dust into the night air. Chavez saw several defenders limping away from the rubble as he sighted them into his sniper scope and began shooting. Within less than a minute, he took down over half a dozen of the enemy with shots to the top of the head.

"Come on." Carlos Sanz said as he led his team down another alleyway near the western gates. He had noticed a pattern with the helicopters flying overhead and he needed to get into position. Earlier in the day, Captain Natasha Kerensky told them that the Pintos ' fuselage was next to indestructible against hand-held weapons fire; it had simply too much armor in that area. The rear rotor, however, was another matter entirely.

Chifune Kishikawa's legs were already aching as she settled into her sixth sniper spot that night. She would relocate every few minutes because she did not want the Blakists to get a bead on her position. The problem with most amateur snipers was that they tended to stay in one spot and would choose the most obvious position to fire from. This made them easy targets to counter-snipers. Chifune had studied with the best, however, and she was using her training to the fullest. Already she had scored the most kills among the defenders; she took out almost an entire squad of LOM infantrymen all by herself as well as numerous infantrymen. As she settled down and once again began her breathing exercises to calm her body down in order to get better accuracy, she stopped worrying about the future and just began to concentrate on the present. There were plenty of enemy infantrymen in the city. And she only had three full magazines left.

The Po tank commander quickly saw several figures run past the front of his tank as it rumbled on down another side street. Quickly ordering the driver to turn and pursue, he ordered the gunner to stand by with the coaxial machinegun. So far they had not needed to use the 120mm main gun. Just as the tank turned and started down the narrow street, he heard a shrill, vibrating noise but quickly thought nothing of it. As long as the tank was hulled down, none of the defender's puny hand weapons could defeat a Po heavy tank.

"Increase the power!" Chief Moses Malone shouted as the large industrial drill kept penetrating the stone column. Within a split second, a massive crack began to form as a rumbling noise began. "Let's get the hell outta here!" He shouted as the engineering team packed up the drill and began to scramble away from the dark, subterranean corridor that they were in.

"What in Blake's name-" The Po tank gunner wondered aloud as the tank seemed to shift violently sideways. All of a sudden, a loud crashing noise occurred as the stone street underneath the heavy tank buckled and gave way, plunging the armored fighting vehicle down several meters into the dry, ancient sewers. The rest of the street as well as a few nearby buildings quickly caved in, burying the Po with tons of dried mud bricks and stone slabs as the city became its tomb.

As a Chevalier wheeled tank responded to the Po's frantic call for help by going into another side street, two of the desperate defenders came out from adjoining houses and quickly ran alongside of it. Before the tank crew could react, they both placed magnetically clamped satchel charges on its side and started running away. The tank's turret hatch quickly opened and the tank commander took out his pistol and shot one of the fleeing defenders who fell down face-first with a laser shot in her back. A split-second later, the satchel charges exploded, blowing the military grade tires off the tank's trans-axel and decapitating the tank commander. As the body slumped down on top of the turret, several defenders, led by Lieutenant John Shive, quickly ran over and started swarming on top of the immobilized light tank. As the tank's gunner desperately tried to pull the dead commander's body back inside so that he could close the hatch, Shive took the pin off a grenade that he was holding and lobbed it down through the hatch. The tank crew screamed as they tried scrambling for the grenade just as it exploded inside. As smoke began to billow from the stricken Chevalier, Shive poked the barrel of his submachine-gun into the partially ajar hatch and fired a long burst into it.

But what most of them didn't notice was that a WOB Scorpion tank came up from a parallel street and faced its turret at them.

"Scorpion! Scorpion!" Shive warned as he started to get off the disabled Chevalier.

It was too late. Sensing that the Chevalier was already done for, the Scorpion did not hesitate as it poured in a volley of medium-ranged missiles and machinegun fire onto the hapless defenders still swarming over the Chevalier. Several died outright as their bodies and limbs were literally ripped apart by the missile warheads as explosions riddled the Chevalier's hull. A missile impacted Shive in his upper torso and exploded, blowing his still beating heart, rib cage, lungs and spine into little bloody pieces. One defender still stood atop the tank, his head and lower torsos cleanly ripped off. A few surviving defenders lay on the ground, writhing and screaming in pain from their horrific injuries as several WOB infantrymen bounded over and shot them, execution style.

A few scattered defenders made it inside the Temple of _Marduk_, near the city center and tried to regroup. A WOB helicopter spotted them however and strafed at them with laser fire as they attempted to get back onto the street in order to enter the sewers. As several of the defenders used the windows to fire out towards the street below, two Po heavy tanks drove into the main road, traversed their turrets and began firing continuously into the temple. The 120mm tank shells made massive holes in the ancient stone architecture as the temple itself began to sway from the constant pounding. One defender lost her nerve as she ran out of the temple's main entrance and was instantly raked with machinegun fire from the two nearby tanks. The others, realizing that the temple would be their final resting place, continued to fire at any targets of opportunity from the walls and windows as the Pinto helicopter gunships circled above and made occasional strafing runs.

Moses Malone grimaced as he used his own broad shoulders to prop up the industrial drill as it kept digging into the underground support column beneath the two tanks. One of the engineers was shot in the back as he was entering the sewers. Malone knew that the enemy had by now realized that they were using the sewers as the means of shifting their forces from one part of the city to another. Already he could hear shouts down the subterranean corridor as his remaining two colleagues readied their weapons and kept watch at a darkened alcove nearby. Their flashlights and the shrill whine of the operating drill would attract the enemy's attention real soon, Malone thought. A slight crack appeared on the support column as he kept the drill focused on it. Just a few more minutes, he thought.

"Hurry up! They're coming!" One of his colleagues shouted back at him as they braced themselves near the entrance.

Malone kept at it as he squatted down to drive the drill deeper into the stone support. The dust that spewed forth from the drill clouded the lens on his filter mask so he was just going by feeling now. He could barely breathe as the sand filled his lungs; it was worse than smoking but it didn't matter now.

One of the engineers got up and fired an extended burst using a submachine-gun down the corridor. As he tried to get back to his perch, a laser beam tore at his knee and brought him down. As the balding, middle-aged man tried to get up, a 5.56mm slug blew off the top of his skull and he fell back down again.

As Malone kept at it, a grenade landed into the small alcove where they were. His remaining colleague grabbed at the grenade and quickly threw it back. A split-second later the grenade exploded and several screams and groaning were heard down the corridor.

It was then that the Blakists had had enough. Four soldiers, their bulky body armor making them look like mechanized, Teutonic knights, rushed the small alcove. Malone's colleague took them all down as he fired an extended burst from his submachine-gun just as they rushed inside. The first two WOB infantrymen got hit in their upper torsos and necks and both went down in a heap. The third soldier got raked with explosive bullets in the left arm and he fell down, writhing in pain and going into shock. The fourth soldier stopped cold as the engineer's weapon made a dry click as it apparently ran out of ammunition. Both adversaries looked at each other with wide, surprised eyes.

Making an ear-piercing scream, Malone's colleague charged the surprised fourth soldier and tried pinning him to the stone walls of the alcove. It would have nearly worked but the soldier regained his composure as both man struggled onto the dusty, underground floor. The engineer was able to wrestle the soldier's rifle away from him but the soldier drew his combat knife and plunged it into the engineer's stomach. Malone's colleague gasped as blood seeped from his mouth. The dying man tried to hold onto the soldier but the Blakist was able to wriggle free and drew his pistol.

Malone paid no attention to what was happening as the drill finally cored the stone column that he was sabotaging. All of a sudden, the stone slabs above him began to creak as they started to come loose.

"Stop!" the Blakist soldier ordered as he fired his pistol.

The slug tore into the back of Malone's hip but the big black man closed his eyes and ignored the searing, burning pain as he made one final, heroic effort and drove the drill down through the last juncture with his remaining strength. Another bullet entered the back of his neck as he slumped down onto the drill, the hot, crimson liquid pouring out like rain from the wound. The Blakist soldier screamed and tried to run away just as the stone slabs above collapsed like dominoes on top of them.

The two tanks above never knew what happened as they were all of a sudden swallowed up by the very city that they were attempting to destroy. As the stone slabs gave way underneath them, their armored hulls flipped sideways, dropping down onto the subterranean sewer system as nearby buildings collapsed on top of them as well, making them forever part of the city.


	29. 27 Stand Alone

There were times, when the moment was calm and quiet, that she would sometimes dream of them. Even though the reality was somewhat different, the scenes in the imaginings would always be peaceful, serene. It was the happy times, the times of innocence and wonder, these were the memories that came to her. She would sometimes hope that they were all in a better place, a place where there would be no wars, no conflict, and no bloodshed. Just a little garden, with leaves fluttering in the wind, the scent of roses and pine, the gentle rush of flowing water and of birds singing in the sunset. How she loved to be in their arms again, laughing and joking at just being together.

Natasha Kerensky gently rubbed at the medallion of the goddess _Ishtar_ on the top instrument panel of her 'Mech's cockpit, hanging along with the grotesque figurine of the demon _Pazuzu_. They were a few inches beside a tuft of wolf fur and the picture of the McGavin brothers. She didn't have a whole lot to remember people by and she tried to collect whatever pieces reminded her of them.

As she stared at the photograph of the two smiling McGavin boys, cheerfully goofing off in front of the camera as it was taken, she felt a touch of guilt but the fond memories of them all together, having fun, took most of the pain away. Natasha reminded herself, on and on, that she could not have done anything different to save the older boy. Kieran McGavin died trying to save her, and she knew that from his personality, he would not have had it any other way. His last words to her as he lay dying in his arms were for her to take care of his little brother Duncan. There wasn't a day that passed by that she hadn't thought of them, not a brief second of time where she would sometimes glance back, hoping to catch Kieran's infectious smile once more, only to turn back to what she was doing, realizing that he was finally gone. But Duncan was still alive, undergoing schooling in the Wolf's Dragoons facility on Outreach. The Black Widow vowed to herself that she would return to see Duncan once more. She was the only one the little boy had, and she would do everything in her power to stay alive and come back to him.

But as her glance shifted over to the left of the control panel, where the tuft of wolf fur was, a momentous despair almost overwhelmed her. Joshua. He was the cause of both her grief and reason for her existence. How he both broke her heart and drove her to the most intense periods of pleasure in her life. A loving angel and a malevolent demon, a beacon of light and a shade of utter darkness he was. She hadn't quiet gotten over him yet. She doubted if she ever would. They were both reborn to become assassins of the Bounty Hunter, a clone of the terrible Usurper himself, Stefan Amaris. Natasha was a clone too and so was Joshua, she of the first Black Widow and he was her dead lover. Her thoughts were hazy now, indistinct and primeval, like a fish learning how to breathe air. How she had rebelled against her creator and how Amaris had sent Joshua to kill her. He failed because of his memories- deep inside of him, despite his conditioning- he loved her. But Joshua murdered Kieran McGavin and she couldn't forgive him for that. Like her own totem animal, she killed him.

The bitter reality seeped into her consciousness once more as she saw a flare go up near the northern gates of the old city. Natasha knew that her enemies were near as she powered up her 'Mech's systems. Her _Warhammer_ was crouched down low, near the broken rocks at the city's eastern edge. Her Null-Signature system was keeping her 'Mech concealed but a thorough search would reveal her position in the end. But not that it mattered, for if she did make contact with the enemy, she would fight for she could not allow any Blakist BattleMech to move in and support their troops who were in the city. She needed to keep them occupied as long as possible.

Already she could see a number of enemy contacts venturing into the area where she was in. They knew her general whereabouts but not her exact location, not yet anyway. Natasha calmly placed the neurohelmet on her head as she plugged in the neural interface jacks that would allow her unprecedented control over her gargantuan BattleMech. As a few seconds passed, the blips on her HUD grew closer as she began running a weapons diagnostic check. All indicators blinked back with a lethal, friendly green.

A squawk on her open communications channel momentarily distracted her as she put on her insulated gloves. "Black Widow," the voice belonged to no other than Precentor Brandon St. Jamais, "I know you are out here somewhere. There are ten of us against you. I suggest you surrender and spare everyone any further bloodshed."

"I have a better idea," Natasha replied. "Why don't you and I fight each other one on one. Single-combat. Mono-a-mono. If I win, you let us be. If you win, we all surrender peacefully."

Adept Amon Goth bit his lip as he was listening in on the same frequency as he drove his 70-ton _Shootist_ BattleMech forward. He hoped that if it did come to that, St. Jamais would choose him to be his champion.

"No, I don't think so." Brandon smiled as he stopped his _Toyama_ heavy BattleMech less than a mile in front of her. "I know of your reputation and that means fighting you one on one would be suicide for me. Let us begin shall we?"

"By all means." Natasha said as she moved her _Warhammer_ to a fully upright position and activated her 'Mech's throttles. The Black Widow could see that the enemy BattleMechs had spread out on a skirmish line to try to draw her out. Glancing from side to side she realized that Brandon St. Jamais wasn't kidding. Ten 'Mechs of assorted tonnage were strung out, ready to act as a giant, robotic firing squad with her as the victim. Quickly analyzing the situation, she knew that she needed to take down the fastest 'Mechs first, lest they surround her and fire on her lightly-armored rear.

"Move in. Concentrate on the source of enemy fire when it happens." Brandon ordered as he punched up the throttle of his _Toyama_ 'Mech. The moment his unit detected any tracer rounds or energy beams, they would lay down a withering return fire in that direction. It didn't matter if the Black Widow's exact location couldn't be pinpointed, their concentrated fire would hit her sooner or later. Just like in old naval warfare incidents, she would be crossing the T.

Almost as one, the white-painted Blakist 'Mechs moved as one line as it drove forward into the area. Natasha gripped her control sticks as she prepared the _Warhammer_ for a quick dash to its side once she commenced firing. It was imperative that she stay on the move, if she sat still their tracking fire would hit her. In front of her extreme right she could see an enemy _Lightray_ 'Mech coming into her sights. Jaws clenched tight in extreme concentration, Natasha zeroed in and fired her arm-mounted gauss cannons.

As the 120mm hypersonic shells left the barreled arms of the Warhammer, they both immediately impacted upon the _Lightray's_ 55-ton bulk. The first shell smashed into the center torso while the second hit the right leg. Although the damage was significant, neither shot failed to penetrate the _Lightray's_ armor.

Goth grimaced as the pilot of the _Lightray_ reported that he was under fire. He realized that the Black Widow was a dangerous opponent for she knew what their plans were, instead of firing her lasers that would have been visible to their sensors, she opted instead to use her gauss cannons. At that moment they could not get a bead down on her but as they were getting closer it would be just a matter of time. Might as well take the punishment before finishing her off, he thought.

Natasha quickly moved the _Warhammer_ sideways as her gauss cannons cycled back their spent energy. The Blakists were well disciplined; even though they were already under attack they held their fire until they could get a thorough bead on her. As long as she kept using her gauss cannons and the ranges stayed long, she could keep doing this until they were all nothing but smoldering ruins but she knew she couldn't keep it up; they were rapidly closing into short range and she had a finite amount of ammunition in her gauss cannons, sooner or later she would have to switch to her _Warhammer's_ medium-ranged heavy lasers. And that would make her visible to their sensors.

"Increase speed, move in!" Brandon ordered. The Blakists began to rev up their fusion powerplants as their 'Mechs ran ever closer. Natasha kept her composure as she ran her _Warhammer_ sideways towards the extreme right of the enemy line, triggering her gauss cannons once again at the sprinting _Lightray_ in front of her.

Although the Black Widow's first shot went wide, the second gauss slug smashed into the _Lightray's_ vulnerable cockpit and decapitated the enemy BattleMech. The Blakist 'Mech fell forward and smashed its torso onto the jagged rocks.

The _Spartan_ pilot instantly saw the _Lightray_ go down as he was trailing behind it and a bulky shadow moved into the crosshairs of his HUD as it was making its way to the extreme flank of the line. A few nights before his 'Mech had one of its legs torn off from the Black Widow's desperate alpha strike and now he was eager for revenge. Laughing maniacally, the _Spartan_ pilot instantly fired his 'Mech's extended-range particle projectile cannon, or PPC, as he alerted the unit that he had made contact.

Natasha was nearly blinded by a white incandescent beam of light that erupted from the enemy _Spartan_ and impacted onto her _Warhammer's_ center torso. Although the man-made lightning bolt from the PPC didn't penetrate, the damage was quite significant and she wouldn't be able to take many more of it. The Black Widow realized that she was in a bind for her gauss cannons were still cycling back their energy but if she decided to fire her lasers, the others would detect her position. As the _Spartan_ closed in on her, she knew that only one desperate choice remained; it was risky but she had to chance it or get beaten right then and there.

Quickly pushing her 'Mech's throttle to maximum, Natasha began to maneuver the _Warhammer_ as it's torsos twisted like a tank turret and kept facing the onrushing _Spartan_ even as she began to move behind it. The enemy _Spartan_ saw what was happening and twisted its torsos to try to keep up with the black _Warhammer_ just as Natasha fired a volley of heavy lasers at it. One bluish beam impacted onto the _Spartan's_ left torso but the other two caught the Blakist 'Mech in its rear as it wasn't able to twist its torsos fast enough. Although the first laser bolt failed to penetrate the _Spartan's_ rear, the second one sliced through the already devastated armor and shorted out the 'Mech's gyros. As the _Spartan_ sputtered to a stop while the pilot was frantically trying to keep it upright, Natasha instantly changed direction, running her _Warhammer_ backwards as she slid behind the stricken enemy assault 'Mech. Almost as if on cue, the enemy battle line had turned its direction and lumbered down on the two 'Mechs, firing their weapons in a full-scale barrage.

The _Spartan_ pilot screamed as lasers, PPCs and autocannon shells began to impact his 'Mech as the Black Widow stayed behind him. Numerous shells and laser bolts tore into the _Spartan_ as its pilot finally lost control and it too toppled over.

"Cease fire, cease fire! Its one of ours!" Brandon shouted as his sprinting _Toyama_ got there first. His unit was slowly being whittled away and he was getting extremely frustrated now. As the _Spartan_ finally fell over, he noticed that there was something behind it. Brandon immediately concentrated his weapons for he knew it was the Black Widow.

Both the _Toyama_ and the _Warhammer_ fired simultaneously. Brandon's two extended-range large lasers tore into the _Warhammer's_ torsos while his LB-X autocannon made numerous smaller hits on the enemy's legs. Unfortunately for Natasha, both her gauss cannons missed but two of her heavy lasers did impact on the right torso and left arm of the _Toyama_. With lethal determination, both BattleMechs circled each other and continued their barrages at one another.

As the two opposing 'Mechs continued to slug it out, Amon Goth pushed the throttle of his _Shootist_ as he got into close range. The other 'Mechs in the unit were still somewhat far off, but they would get there in a matter of minutes. Goth couldn't fire as the _Toyama_ kept getting in his way so he bided his time as he continued to get into a better position. Time was on his side so he just needed to be patient.

Natasha's _Warhammer_ was taking heavy damage but there was no penetration on her 'Mech's armor, as of yet. The _Toyama_ was giving as much as it got but it suddenly stopped circling her when it nearly ran into a sprinting _Raijin_ BattleMech that had just come onto the scene. The Black Widow instantly saw her opportunity as she sighted her weapons and fired. Two gauss slugs instantly leapt out of her _Warhammer's_ arms and impacted onto the _Toyama_. The first slug tore into the Blakist 'Mech's left arm but the second 120mm slug smashed right through the _Toyama's_ right torso and penetrated the ammunition storage of Brandon's long-range missile rack. One of the missile warheads instantly detonated, sending a chain reaction that blew the entire torso to shreds. As the alarms blazed all around him, Brandon was instantly torn loose from the exploding _Toyama_ as his ejection seat propelled him several hundred meters into the desert night.

"You're mine." Amon Goth said as he finally had the position he was hoping for. Almost immediately, two massive 200mm shells erupted from his _Shootist's_ ULTRA autocannon and impacted onto the black _Warhammer_. As the Black Widow's 'Mech staggered from the hail of armor-piercing steel, Goth fired his pulse lasers as well, adding into the carnage.

Natasha Kerensky shook off the effects of the neural feedback as she shut off the whining alarms in her 'Mech's cockpit. Her _Warhammer_ was heavily damaged and parts of her torso had been penetrated, that meant that her Null-Signature system was offline and her 'Mech had taken engine damage as well. The _Warhammer's_ left arm also hung limply on its side, the gauss cannon damaged beyond repair. Her odds were never that much to begin with and she knew it. "Move, damn you!" The Black Widow said as she practically willed her stricken _Warhammer_ to perform one last task before it succumbed.

Goth couldn't believe it. Despite the pounding she took, the Black Widow still didn't eject. Oh well, he would have to do it the long way, then. As he circled the stricken _Warhammer_, he saw that the _Raijin_ slowed down as it fired a barrage of pulse lasers into it as well, tearing out large chunks of armor from its legs and burning through some internal components.

But the Black Widow wouldn't give up. Quickly revving up what power she had left in the damaged engines, her _Warhammer_ got up and quickly sprinted backwards, surprising both the _Raijin_ and the _Shootist_. Before they could recover, she fired her remaining weapons at the immobile _Raijin_. Her targeting sensors were gone so she stood a better chance of hitting the lighter _Raijin_ than the already moving _Shootist_. Two heavy lasers were able to pound the _Raijin's_ torsos but failed to penetrate it. Natasha's last gauss slug, however, did the trick as it passed effortlessly into the _Raijin's_ left torso and cored its engine housing. The _Raijin's_ reactor instantly went into meltdown as the fusion energy tore through its casing and the exploding ammunition from its missile bins blasted the hapless 50-ton 'Mech into millions of pieces.

"Enough!" Goth shouted as he pushed his _Shootist_ forward, firing his ULTRA autocannon again at the smoldering _Warhammer_. This time, the Black Widow just didn't have the armor to take a second volley as the massive autocannon shells ripped through the remaining armor and tore out the _Warhammer's_ engine housing, nearly cleaving the 'Mech in two as the damage cut through the chassis as well. This was all too much for the _Warhammer's_ central computer as it immediately activated the pilot's ejection seat and tried to shut down the remaining systems. By then the Black Widow was already unconscious from the neural feedback and so didn't feel the g-forces as the ejection seat wrenched her away from the dying _Warhammer_ 'Mech.

Brandon St. Jamais unstrapped himself from his ejection seat while staring out into the desert sky. He could see that the battle in the city was going full force as explosions rattled on in the distance. He could see Goth's _Shootist_ several hundred meters away, moving slowly along the rocks, hoping to find the Black Widow's parachute. Quickly activating his communicator, Brandon patched in to Goth's frequency. "Well, did you find her?" He said.

"Negative. I shot at her parachute as it was going down but she's somewhere in these rocks. She's probably dead anyways." Goth replied.

"Don't be too sure." Brandon said as he pulled out his laser pistol. "I want you to dispatch a team of LOM operatives here to hunt her down. I want a positive ID on her body."

"Roger that. Do you want me to pick you up?"

"Negative. Once the chopper inserts the hunter-killer team, have them pick me up; I'm going to command our forces in the city. You handle the 'Mechs until my _Toyama_ is repaired." With that, Brandon deactivated his communicator and sat down on a slab of rock.

Damn these delegates and damn that Black Widow, he thought. Why couldn't they have just surrendered peacefully? They had no chance. Or did they?


	30. 28 MOUT

Tracers and laser beams lit up the night sky as the city of Babylon reeled from the relentless fighting that took place along its dusty streets and stone temples. The Blakist attackers had lost most of their armored fighting vehicles and the remaining ones were continually asked to provide help to the beleaguered infantry. The delegates and their archaeologist allies were fighting as if possessed, braving the superior firepower of the enemy but their casualties continued to mount. Many of the defenders were already dead or dying but a few kept on resisting, running into prepared positions inside buildings and continued to fire back even though some were severely wounded. Due to the fact that they had taken large amounts of casualties, the WOB infantry squads regrouped and began a slow push towards the Royal Palace near the northern gates of the city. Adept Jason Cornelius was freed from his damaged battlearmor and joined the other infantry units as they began a brutal, house to house sweep to flush out the defenders. Every time the Blakists would come close to any sewer opening, they instantly chucked in high explosive and white-phosphorous grenades into them; a few screams would occasionally erupt as they caught some defenders still trying to use the underground drainage system.

The first thing Major Dominic Durant realized when he regained consciousness was that he couldn't hear anything. It was like an endless ringing chime was reverberating in his skull. The last thing he remembered was that he was inside a stone building when a helicopter gunship flew in low and fired its weapons. Then the roof collapsed and the next thing he knew, he was lying in a cot in one of the inner hallways of the Royal Palace. A lighted brazier cast amber shadows across the cavernous stone room as he could see the dead and dying being administered to. A few bodies were laid out on the floor, covered in blankets while he could see a young girl sitting cross-legged with her back leaning against a stone column, sobbing uncontrollably.

Karen Udeze stooped over to him and said something but Dominic shook his head and pointed to his ears, still unable to hear anything. He could see that her white crewman's uniform was covered with crimson stains, she along with several of the more timid women of the Smythe-Dayan expedition had volunteered to stay as nurses in the makeshift infirmary. It was apparent that they had their hands full.

Dominic willed himself to stand up as the ringing in his ears began to die down and was replaced by sobs, moans and nearby explosions. It seemed that he had a wound in his left leg and other than the temporary loss of hearing, everything else seemed tolerable. A woman lay in a cot next to him, she looked like she was asleep but her skin was white as snow and there was a horrific wound on her head, a bloody crater that rimmed her temple and lower scalp. Powder burns blackened the area around her fair skin. She looked so peaceful in death. Dominic felt like retching but was able to control himself as all of his senses slowly returned back to him.

Karen Udeze came over once again and offered him a cup of water. Dominic refused as he looked around the room of dead and dying. "How long have I been in here?"

"They brought you in five minutes ago." The former stewardess of the _Amerigo_ answered.

Dominic could only stare back in shock. The whole battle started only less than twenty minutes ago.

Chifune Kishikawa crept along a dusty rooftop of an old stone building as she noticed there was movement in one of the adjacent temples across the street. She was down to her last magazine and she needed to make every shot count. Her face, hands and entire uniform were now covered in dust but it helped in concealing her position.

The Pinto heavy attack helicopters had by now used up their missiles but they were still desperately needed as air-support so they stayed in the fight. Although the pilots were more uncomfortable in flying low in order for them to use their medium laser batteries, they had a duty to protect the ground troops and so they signaled their LOM snipers to provide cover as well.

Jason Cornelius readjusted the straps on his Kevlar vest, just minutes ago he had stripped the armored vest from a fellow soldier that was killed by an apparent sniper. Although the vest was in excellent condition, it wasn't an exact fit and so he kept fidgeting with it. He had just been extricated from his damaged Purifier battlearmor and so had to strip some gear from his dead comrades in order to further equip himself. Cornelius was able to regroup his unit and was now leading a squad of WOB infantrymen as they made their way into the temple of _Ishtar_. Although several of his team was wounded from their previous encounters, they didn't find any live defenders in the temple.

As he observed his men stepping over a bloodied corpse of a defender near the altar, he noticed a glint of metal from a nearby building as he watched from the cavernous window of the temple. It was then that Cornelius realized what it was. "Sniper!" he shouted at his men as he dove for cover.

Chifune fired at the enemy soldier just as he dove down. Although he didn't seem as heavily armed as his compatriots, she could clearly see that he was a squad leader of some sort as he seemed to be issuing orders. The steel-jacketed slug from her Minolta 9000 sniper rifle entered the man's neck and she saw him clutching his throat as spurts of blood began to spew forth.

"_Adept_ Cornelius is hit!" One of the WOB infantrymen shouted as two of them tried to pull the wounded man away from the window but another soldier was hit in the groin and fell down, moaning.

"Over there! Get in low!" _Acolyte_ Rogelio Chavez shouted at the pilot of the Pinto helicopter that he was riding in. A few moments before, he had noticed something peculiar about the roof of a nearby building but because Super Six-Four was continuously making rapid banks and turns to avoid potential anti-aircraft fire, he couldn't get a closer look. But then he seemed to see some movement on it and he was absolutely convinced that it was that elusive sniper that everyone was concerned about. As he braced himself on the Pinto's side door, he trained his scope to the building. "Keep her steady!" Chavez shouted to the pilot as he needed a clear shot.

Chifune could see that she got at least two of the Blakists. However, because of her fatigue she just then realized that she had stayed too long in her spot and needed to relocate before she could be spotted by the enemy. Quickly collapsing the bipod of her sniper rifle and putting the cap on its scope, Chifune started to crawl towards the stairwell.

"Gotcha." Chavez smiled as he sighted the slow moving target's head in his night-vision scope and started to squeeze the trigger.

"Fire!" Carlos Sanz ordered as the two young men with him fired their shoulder-held LAW rocket launchers at the stationary helicopter flying above them. Just minutes before they had sneaked into a narrow alleyway behind the temple and positioned themselves to the rear of the helicopter just as it began to hover above.

The first rocket missed by a scant half-meter but the second one made a direct hit on the Pinto's rear rotor assembly, tearing into the fragile control circuitry before exploding. The sudden jerk of the helicopter threw Chavez slightly off-target as his 7.62mm steel-jacketed slug grazed Chifune's right arm. The Otomo bodyguard quickly recovered and ran down the stairwell as the helicopter began to careen sideways as the pilot of Super Six-Four lost control.

Just as the pilot of Pinto Super Six-One had maneuvered his helicopter into a steep climb after an attack run against the Royal Palace, another Pinto suddenly loomed right in front of him. Gritting his teeth, he quickly plunged the control stick for a steep dive but was a split-second too late as his main rotors were instantly sheared off when they ripped into the fuselage of the other helicopter. With no lift to keep it airborne, Super Six-One plunged down and smashed into the side of the city walls.

Alarms began to whine all over the cockpit of Pinto Super Six-Four as the helicopter spun out of control. Chavez held onto the straps of his safety harness as his entire world whirled around him. The Pinto pilot was trying his best but without the rear rotor, he had no control as the rapidly spinning helicopter's fuselage sheared off the top of the northern citadel as it kept spinning like a devilish whirlwind in the air. "Super Six-Four going down." The pilot said calmly in his throat mike as its crew held on for dear life. Within a few minutes, the helicopter made a horrendous crunching noise as it crashed nose first onto the dusty street, raising up a cloud of sand.

"We got two Pintos down, I repeat, we got two Pintos down." The pilot flying Ferret Spade-Two announced over his microphone as the smaller helicopter surveyed the carnage below. "Super Six-One and Super Six-Four collided in midair due to anti-aircraft fire."

_Adept_ Amon Goth cursed as he revved up the throttle of his _Shootist_ BattleMech. It was clear that he needed to bring his 'Mechs into the city to support the offensive otherwise it would bog down. "Goth to all units- hold positions. We are on our way." As he started towards the city, he noticed that a third Pinto helicopter lifted off from the rocky outcroppings as they deposited a LOM hunter-killer team and then retrieved _Precentor_ Brandon St. Jamais. It would be light very soon as he could see the edges of the sun in the horizon.

Sanz patted his teammates on the back and then ordered them to reload their LAW launchers as they stayed in the alleyway, hoping to catch more helicopters that passed by. A more experienced team of soldiers would have immediately left the scene lest their position be discovered but due to their inexperience, they were all carried away by the spur of the moment. That was their big mistake as a bulky, shimmering form made its way behind them in the dark.

"What-" Sanz muttered as his victory grin turned to dismay when he saw an armored bulk suddenly reveal itself. The Purifier instantly fired its support laser at the surprised trio, literally disemboweling Sanz's companion as the youth fell to the ground, his guts splattering the alleyway. As the official liaison of the Star League grabbed at the fallen man's LAW rocket, the other student was quickly shot in the head by the Purifier as it advanced forward, hoping to grab Sanz by the neck in its armored fist but he was able to drop to the ground in time.

As the Purifier aimed its weapon at his face, Sanz held the LAW rocket tube vertically till it pointed upwards at the Purifier's torso and fired it point-blank. The LAW rocket exploded prematurely as it partially penetrated the battlesuit's armor at its hip joints and the Purifier fell backwards, thrashing in the street as Sanz crawled away, screaming from the burns on his face. After awhile, the pain subsided but he still could not see so he stumbled around in a daze until he exited out into the alleyway and onto the main street. A Scorpion tank was nearby and immediately challenged him, ordering him to get on his knees and surrender but it seemed that he did not comprehend it as he kept walking aimlessly, like a blind, Oedipal prophet. It was then that the tank commander lost his temper and ordered his crew to fire. When the smoke cleared, only his pieces remained.

As Dominic took stock of the dead and wounded in the Royal Palace's inner hallway, he noticed Chifune walk inside, tying a makeshift bandage on her upper right arm. "How bad?" He asked.

"It's just a scratch. But I have not so good news: I spotted 'Mechs on the western gates, they should be here in a few minutes." Chifune said calmly as she checked her Minolta 9000 sniper rifle.

Dominic bit his lip. Natasha failed; she was probably dead as well.

As the sounds of explosions began to get closer, Professor Adrian Smythe approached the two. His clothes were also stained with blood as he tried to help the wounded. "You must gather up your wounded and get out of here." Smythe said.

"Where to? We got nowhere to go." Dominic said wistfully.

"There is an underground passage beneath the royal bedchambers." Smythe answered.

"What?" Dominic was shocked. Why didn't they tell him this before?

"It leads up to the mountains; there are caves up there that could give you shelter. Take your wounded and go." Smythe said. He had a blank sense of resignation on his face. "I will try to hold them off."

Dominic turned to Karen Udeze, who happened to walk over as the conversation started. "How many wounded are there?" He asked.

"About two dozen that can walk." Udeze said.

"Get them up, we need to get going." Dominic said to her before he turned his attention back to Adrian Smythe and gave him his laser rifle. "Good luck."

Chifune helped Count Seiji Oshiwara up from his cot as she slung the sniper rifle over her shoulder. Dominic also decided to take the restraints off Jessica Bradshaw, who was kept prisoner in the Palace throughout the night. All in all, there were less than twenty of them as they started to limp their way towards the Royal bedchambers and the underground passage below.

Baroness Mishai Singh looked around one last time before joining the group. She had become friends with a number of the archaeologists and it was hard to say goodbye. She wiped a tear from her cheek as she stared at the cot where the body of Dr. Mordecai Dayan lay; he had collapsed and apparently died from a heart attack just as the battle began. With a sigh, the official delegate from the Federated Suns began to make her way below.

Dr. Constance Smythe sat on a stool beside the cot of a wounded Capellan bodyguard. The man had burns all over his body and was still smoldering. She kept holding on to his hand, ignoring the smell of blackened flesh as she tried to sooth his death throes the best she could. When Dominic asked her if she would go, she just sat there, ignoring him. She couldn't leave, she had fallen in love with the city and now that it was being systematically destroyed, she had no reason to live anymore. When the man finally stopped twitching and his moans fell silent, Constance Smythe got up, leaned over and kissed his forehead.

Professor Adrian Smythe could clearly see two BattleMechs making their way up the main thoroughfare of the city as they leveled a number of smaller buildings with their powerful weapons. As he crouched low near the massive windows, he noticed his wife Constance walk over calmly and stood out on the balcony as she stared out into the night. "Constance, get down!" He shouted.

Within a split second, the shockwave of an impacting missile threw him against the stone column of the inner-hallway as he recoiled from the blast. Professor Smythe's ears were ringing as he slowly got up, pieces of stone littering the area around him as the air smelt of smoke and fire. "Constance!" Smythe shouted. He could barely hear himself as the ringing in his head continued to drown out any other noise.

"Constance!" Smythe continued to shout out hoarsely as he crawled along the wreckage of the stone balcony. The ringing in his ears began to die down and was replaced by nearby explosions that just seemed to get closer every second. As he kept crawling, his left hand touched something soft and cold, looking down, he saw her lying on the ground as if she had fallen. As he turned her head, he noticed that her eyes were open and staring out into the dawning sky.

"Oh, Constance." Adrian Smythe whispered as he sat down and cradled his wife's head, rocking back and forth for a few minutes. He soon heard shouts and footsteps from the stone stairways. The enemy was getting close. After closing her eyes and wiping off his tears, he gently set her down and crossed her arms before getting up and walking over to where the laser rifle lay.

As he lay down on his stomach while bracing the rifle at the foot of the stairs, he noticed that the ringing in his ears was now replaced by the sound of his thumping heartbeat as he waited for them to make their way to the upper floors.


	31. 29 Hunt The Black Widow

As the blood red sun began to dawn over the barren rock outcroppings near the ruined city, four men walked slowly and deliberately as they stalked their prey. The morning illumination cast a crimson palette over the shards of volcanic rock, giving the entire scene an eerie sense of foreboding. Just a few hours before, the Pinto attack helicopter had inserted them into the area where the enemy pilot of an all-black _Warhammer_ was suspected to have landed after she ejected. Their mission was to make sure that she was either dead or to capture her alive. Each one of them had been thoroughly briefed and they knew that if she were still breathing, it would be a very tough job to bring her back. As they were being ferried to the area a few hours before, they each made a vow to one another that if they would find the woman still living, they would kill her. Because of her fearsome reputation, they wouldn't take any chances.

All four men were dressed somewhat alike; their white combat fatigues had khaki stripes painted on them so as to make them blend in with the desert. Each man also wore a Kevlar vest that protected their chest, back and upper abdomen from gunfire and laser beams. Unlike the standard WOB infantrymen, these four wore no combat helmets, preferring hockey helmets or _kheffiyahs_ with which to cover their heads. Two were equipped with shortened assault rifles, one had a Shredder heavy needler while the fourth man carried a laser rifle; all wore tinted goggles to shield their eyes from the morning sun as well as knee and elbow pads when the time for fighting and killing came.

The four were moving as two teams, one pair covering the other as each man kept watch over his partner. In military terms it was called an overwatch. They walked slowly, trying to make the least amount of noise and going through every detail in the terrain carefully. She was in the area somewhere; they knew it.

Overhead, a Ferret light attack helicopter was buzzing by, trying to see if there were any indicators of her location from the air. Although the chopper crew was exhausted from their night mission over Babylon, they still had one more job to do before they could return to base. Both Ferret pilots swallowed stimulant pills to try to keep their tired bodies going for a few hours longer, if they could spot her right away, so much the better. Hot chow and a bunk bed were waiting for them as soon as they found her.

The Ferret pilot stifled a yawn as he inadvertently reached into his suit pocket for another stim pill. He had been flying all night and the exhaustion was slowly getting to him; his skull was spinning and he felt very sluggish. With a rapid shake of his head, the pilot tried to ward the fatigue away as he kept his eyes peeled on the terrain below as the Ferret flew in low for a closer look. His co-pilot was sitting beside him and had his macro-binoculars out as he also scanned the area, looking for telltale signs of their quarry.

Within a few minutes, his co-pilot gestured with his thumb. "Down there, I see something."

"Okay," The Ferret pilot said, "relay it to the ground unit."

An observer with binoculars would have noticed that the lead commando had a scar across the bridge of his weather-beaten nose as he kept moving along the dried lava bed. He had acquired it during the battle for Sandhurst Military Academy during the Blakist invasion of Terra almost a decade ago. "Scar" was the most senior among them and the other three always listened to his suggestions. Like the others, he wore a hockey helmet with a built-in communicator equipped with a throat mike with which to communicate with the helicopter overhead and his colleagues.

"Lommies," The voice in his receiver squawked as it referred to them by their nickname, "up ahead- fifty meters to your right. I see an object on the ground."

Scar immediately signaled his companions as he sprinted low towards the area where the Ferret pilots directed him. His colleagues immediately crouched low as well as they proceeded with both speed and caution, scoped weapons at the ready.

After traversing a ring of elephant-sized boulders, the four-man team immediately split up into twos; one pair moving sideways, hoping to flank what ever was in the small clearing up ahead while the other pair moved forward at a snail's pace, keeping their eyes and other senses wide open. A few minutes later, after hearing a low whisper from his comm. unit that the other pair was in position at the opposite side, Scar immediately sprinted while keeping low as his partner covered him while they ventured into the clearing.

It was an ejection seat. What was once part of the Black Widow's _Warhammer_ stood upright on the ground like a forsaken black throne. As the other pair of Blakist commandos did a perimeter search around the clearing, Scar slowly walked over to the abandoned cockpit chair, making a cursory examination while his partner covered his back. The straps were clearly unbuckled as the occupant consciously and deliberately got out as fast as she could the moment it landed. So she was alive then, he thought. Part of him cursed at the notion that their task would be more dangerous while another aspect of his personality reveled at it because it meant an exciting hunt.

Scar's training and experience had taught him to pay attention to the little things as he carefully examined the ejection seat. The veteran LOM commando made sure he didn't touch anything as he ran his eyes along its sides, it could have been rigged with booby traps and so it was best to stay at a distance. He didn't see any bloodstains on the chair so it seemed that the former occupant was not wounded. But then again, the forceful separation from the stricken BattleMech when she ejected might have bruised or fractured some bones in her body, he really couldn't tell. The homing beacon wasn't activated either for she knew there wasn't any help coming, he noticed. As he looked at the ground near the ejection seat he did notice some tracks in the dust. Based on the way the sand was splayed, he could immediately tell that the chair's occupant didn't have a limp nor was she dragging one of her feet; it meant that she was in full health.

The other pair of commandos quickly made their way to the clearing but stayed at the opposite side while they kept watching the other directions. As he checked to see where the boot tracks were headed to, Scar quickly made a number of silent hand signals to indicate her apparent direction. The other three nodded in assent as the second pair started to make their way in the direction he pointed to.

"Looks like the ground team is heading northwest," The Ferret's co-pilot said as he lowered his macro-binoculars to rest his tired eyes. "We should try the other side."

"Roger that." The Ferret pilot acknowledged as he shifted his foot pedals to enable the helicopter to veer off towards the south. If they got lucky, they might spot her before the ground team did.

As Natasha Kerensky crept around in the dark, a number of thoughts manifested in her head. She remembered the words of her instructor, a mysterious and deadly assassin called Meridian. _If outnumbered, do not go to them- let them come to you._ _Choose your ground and strike when they least expect it_.

As Scar bounded over a shoulder-high boulder, he immediately noticed what looked like the opening of a cave. Whispering into his voice-activated throat mike, he immediately informed the other pair in his right flank and all four commandos converged into the area. Scar frowned as he peered into the dark, cavernous maw using the night-vision scope of his carbine. It looked like a natural cave formation that formed as the howling winds tunneled through the solid rock over countless eons. This was not good for it meant that if the BattleMech pilot had managed to get in there, it would not only make an effective hiding place, but also a great spot for an ambush.

"Spade-Two: come in, over." Scar spoke through his throat-mike to address the helicopter flying nearby.

"This is Spade-Two," The Ferret pilot answered, "reading you loud and clear."

"We have spotted the entrance of what looks like a series of caves that were hewn into the bedrock." Scar said. "We are going in to investigate. Request that you do a fly by and locate any other exit points, I have a feeling that our target is in here."

"Spade-Two acknowledges. Beginning flyby." With that, the Ferret banked rapidly and began to descend towards them, flying slowly over the top of the cave complex to see if there were other openings and to try and spot the Black Widow.

Scar then made a thumbs-up gesture as all four men attached their night-vision goggles onto the front of their hockey helmets. Although the goggles tended to restrict their field of view, it was absolutely essential for spotting their quarry in the dark recesses of the cave. With a wave of his hand, Scar led the four of them into the opening.

The absolute blackness of vision was replaced by a tinge of green as each man walked in single file, Scar's carbine was pointed ahead while the other weapons pointed to the sides and rear of their column. As they continued on, going deeper into the underworld, the eerie sense of confinement became more acute as each felt like he was amongst the land of the dead.

Precious minutes passed as the group slowly kept going, keeping a tight formation as they continued onwards. As Scar slowly made his way along the cave tunnel that made a slight downward incline, his boot touched something that felt like it wasn't part of the sand and rock. Quickly signaling the team to crouch down and hold, Scar peered his goggles towards the floor, seeing something metallic in the dusty gravel.

Picking it up, he noticed that it was some sort of metallic figurine with a body and face of a demon. Part of his soul shuddered in dread as he used his experience to maintain control over both his senses and morale. He was not a religious man, but the effect of going into the dark and encountering this gave him somewhat of a jolt. Realizing that it was best not to let the others in on it lest they become demoralized, he quickly put the figurine into the side leg pocket of his combat fatigues. His colleague behind him tapped his shoulder and gestured what was happening but Scar signaled back that it was nothing and indicated for them to move on.

As the downward incline of the passageway ended, they noticed that the tunnel had branched off into two separate openings. Scar made another silent curse to himself as he realized that they would have to split up in order to cover both passageways if they were to finish this. On silent cue, Scar and his colleague behind him took to the opening on the right while the other two continued on towards the original way.

Even as they tried to keep silent, the sounds of their boots reverberated throughout the narrow confines of the cave tunnel as she sensed that they were coming. Gritting her teeth, Natasha quickly got into position. She only had one chance to do this right, and part of her plan depended a lot on luck- the Black Widow hoped that she still had an ounce of it left.

Scar and his colleague continued their relentless patrol until he saw what looked like a light at the end of the tunnel. As he crept forward, he noticed that the tunnel lead into a massive cavern. Stalactites seemed to have formed in the cathedral-like upper ceiling as shafts of sunlight poked through the wind formed holes at the top. Deactivating his night-vision goggles, Scar slowly ventured along the outer edges of the cavernous hall as his partner kept overwatch, using his infrared scope at the darkened niches along the rock walls.

Natasha tired to ignore the pain as her limbs nearly buckled from the strain of keeping her entire body aloft. The immediate cramping of her forearms subsided somewhat and was replaced by a surge of adrenaline as the first LOM operator appeared underneath her. The Black Widow had climbed up to the ceiling of the tunnel and splayed her arms and legs, keeping herself suspended above the floor like a spider waiting to pounce. As long as they didn't look up, she would have a chance. If they did decide to train their eyes upwards, that would be the end of her. Beads of sweat began to form on her face as she gritted her teeth and kept pushing the searing pain away from her thoughts.

After carefully making his way to the opposite side of the cavern, Scar instantly noticed something near a pile of rocks beside a darkened alcove. As he looked down using the night-vision scope on his carbine, he realized that it was a MechWarrior's neurohelmet. Rather than touching it, he carefully examined it with his eyes only. Painted black and with a red hourglass near the top of the visor, the helmet was not easily seen from his previous spot. So she was here, he thought.

As the second man walked beneath her, Natasha noticed that there was no one else trailing behind the pair as they traversed the underground cave tunnel. It was time.

The fall was a short one as the Black Widow let go of her perch and her heels smashed down onto the back of the commando's knees when she dropped down on top of him. Hearing his partner's scream, the lead commando turned as he saw that a woman dressed in black shorts and a skintight black T-shirt struggled behind his colleague as her left arm held his neck in a vise-like grip.

While he was being assaulted from behind the commando tried to bring his Shredder heavy needler to face his rear but Natasha was able to veer the weapon to point the other way as the soldier inadvertently pulled the rigger while they grappled with each other. The lead man in front could not get a clear shot at the swirling forms so he tried to crouch down to get a better aim just as the high-velocity flechettes from the Shredder removed the portion of his lower jaw and neck as the parts literally disintegrated into tiny bits of blood and bone. As he convulsed in his death spasm, the dying man inadvertently triggered his carbine, spraying a burst of 5.56mm slugs that bounced off the solid rock walls of the tunnel.

"Shots fired!" Scar's colleague yelled as he heard the gunfire behind him while crouching in the lip of the cavern entrance.

"Move!" Scar shouted as they both scrambled back towards the tunnel while activating their goggles again. The second team was in a fight and they needed to get over there as soon as possible.

The soldier fired his heavy needler rifle for the second time as he tried to get away from the Black Widow's grip, sending a cluster of needle-like flechettes bouncing off the tunnel walls. Natasha could tell that despite her surprise attack, the man was clearly stronger than her and she wasn't able to get a good grip in order to break his neck because the man's hockey helmet and Kevlar vest kept getting in the way. As the LOM commando kept trying to aim the rifle behind him, he kept jerking his body back and forth to try and shake off Natasha while reaching for his combat knife with his other arm.

As they struggled inconclusively for a few seconds, the man instantly changed his tactic as he dropped the rifle and pushed his body backwards, slamming into the tunnel wall and knocking the wind out of Natasha's lungs. While the Black Widow staggered and tried to catch her breath, the man twisted free as he whirled around to face her while drawing his combat knife.

A grimace of rage went through the man's eyes as he instantly lunged forward, trying to slash at her with the knife. But Natasha dodged the attack as she whirled sideways and drove the base of her palm upwards and struck the man's night-vision goggles, tearing the delicate instrument clean off as it flew across the tunnel. As the man struggled with his newfound loss of sight in the partial darkness, Natasha quickly followed it up with a roundhouse kick to the man's chest that sent him sprawling to the side wall. Knowing that his Kevlar vest protected him from most of that damage, the Black Widow rapidly closed in and drove her right elbow into the man's exposed nose, crushing the cartilage and driving the bone splinters into his brain. The man made a slight wheeze as he collapsed down into the ground.

Just as Natasha paused to catch her breath, a high-explosive grenade shell slammed close to her and exploded, throwing her forward into the dusty floor as Scar's colleague loaded another grenade into the mini-launcher mounted below his laser rifle. With her ears still ringing from the explosive near-miss, the Black Widow quickly got up and ran down deeper into the tunnel just in time as a second explosive grenade shell exploded near her previous spot. The shockwave of the explosion made her dive down once again as she felt something hot and painful at the back of her legs. As Natasha rolled over, she noticed that she had sustained some burns as she got up and continued to scramble backwards down the tunnel.

"You got her?" Scar asked as he followed behind his colleague who was moving forward and reloading his grenade launcher again.

"She's mine." His partner said as he slowly pressed on, weapon at the ready. The tunnel was getting narrower.

As Natasha kept backing up she tripped over some debris and fell down a small gully at the top of a sinkhole, bruising her shoulder and adding more cuts to her exposed skin. Grimacing in pain, the Black Widow crouched down and noticed that the tunnel was at a dead-end and she had reached that end. She was now trapped, with nowhere to go except through the enemy.

Small shafts of light that penetrated through the cracks in the cave enabled her to have some illumination since she had adjusted to the darkness hours before. Natasha looked around in desperation to see what she could do to forestall her fate. It was obvious that they were going to kill her; either for revenge or just plain orders from the top. As her despair became acute, she noticed a small bulge in the ceiling a few meters down the tunnel from whence she came. If it was what she thought it was, it might give her a chance. She did not want to think of the consequences if her instincts weren't right. As Natasha grabbed a fist-sized rock and waited for the inevitable, she once again remembered Meridian's instructions: _if faced with a life or death situation, don't bother to think of the consequences of your decisions. The only thoughts to think about are your training and skills. Then just do it_. _If you die, so be it- you can worry about everything else in the afterlife_.

Just as the LOM commando showed himself when he walked into her field of view, Natasha swung her right arm and threw the rock with all her might towards the silky lump above him at the exact moment he spotted her. As the soldier aimed his rifle for the deathblow, dozens of black widow spiders dropped down from the broken silk lump and landed on the top of his head, crawling down to his exposed neck and immediately began to bite him, injecting their formidable venom into his bloodstream.

The man immediately dropped his laser rifle as he clutched at his neck, trying to both crush the spiders and get them off. Natasha immediately went into action as she bolted towards the stricken soldier and threw all of her weight into a forward kick. The Black Widow's booted heel immediately connected with the man's armored chest as the soldier flew back and crashed into Scar. Both LOM commandos fell onto the dusty ground as Scar started rolling away from his stricken partner who was convulsing as the arachnid neurotoxins began to destroy nerve cells in his neck and head.

As Scar tried to grope for his carbine, he quickly looked up as he got into a crouching position and saw the barrel of his own weapon staring back straight at him.

"Looking for this?" Natasha said as she fired a short burst that cored the man's skull.

The Ferret pilot frowned as the helicopter hovered near the caves. Just a few minutes before, both him and his co-pilot heard weapons fire and screams as they monitored the ground team's communication frequency. After a short while everything went static. But the silence might have been caused by interference from the caves and so they hovered near the top of the caverns for a closer look.

"Spade-Two to Ground Team, come in, over." The pilot said for the umpteenth time. He was getting really drowsy now and the Ferret's fuel gauge indicated that they needed to return to base soon.

"Where in Blake's hell are they?" His co-pilot swore as he kept scanning the caves with his macro-binoculars.

"Hell if I know." The pilot said wearily as he used his right arm to keep the helicopter steady while his left arm began to rummage the meal pack near his seat. Perhaps he missed a thermos that still had some coffee, he really needed it now because his supply of stim pills was used up.

"For the love of Blake- LOOK OUT!" His co-pilot screamed.

"What?" The Ferret pilot said as he looked up and froze in complete shock as he saw who was standing on the top ledge near the caves.

It was the Black Widow. And she was cradling a large, scoped rifle with some protrusions underneath its barrel.

As the Ferret began to veer away, Natasha fired the laser rifle's mini-grenade launcher. The high-explosive shell impacted at the side of the Ferret's cockpit and exploded a split second later. As the chopper began to spin out of control, Natasha used aimed shots and emptied the laser rifle's powerpack, sending the light helicopter crashing down into the rocks below.


	32. 30 Resignations

It was around midmorning that they could finally see the entrance of the caves near the mountain cliffs. They had been moving as fast as they could, but with the wounded and the crippled, they could only go so far. Dominic wanted to seal the escape tunnel leading from the northern citadel but they just didn't have any explosives left. Each one of them was armed, but ammunition was in short supply. The ones that could quickly began to help the ones that couldn't, as they began to traverse the slippery crags and crevices towards what looked to be a series of cave openings in the sandy rock.

As _Mandrissa_ Monika Lee started to climb a boulder the size of a small house to get at the cliff face, her knee soon gave out and she began to slip off. As the official delegate of the Capellan Confederation struggled to grab a handhold on the boulder, she scraped the skin off her palms. Letting out a shriek, Lee thought that she would end up dying from a fall, rather than getting shot.

Her left wrist was instantly gripped by a strong but feminine forearm that hauled her slowly back to the apex of the boulder. After letting out an exhausted sigh, Monika Lee looked up to the stooping form of Jessica Bradshaw.

"Are you alright, _Mandrissa_?" Jessica asked as she tightened up her shoulder pack.

"Thanks to you, yes." Monika Lee answered in shortened breaths.

"You should rest for another minute," Jessica said as she began to turn around, "I'll go help the others."

_Mandrissa_ Lee stared back at her face as she tugged her arm. "Wait a minute."

Jessica turned her head back to her. "Yes, what is it?"

"You could have let me die."

"And what would that have accomplished?" Jessica answered. "I know what you're thinking, you believe that I will wait for the moment to kill you because I think you are a traitor, am I right?"

"The thought had crossed my mind."

"Frankly, _Mandrissa_," Jessica said, "it would have mattered very little now anyway; my mission was a failure the moment that ROM agent infiltrated the JumpShip. My orders were to get the datadisk to the Tharkad Conference. So now I guess its just all trivial now."

"So why are you still helping us, then?" Monika Lee said.

"I guess I really have no better things with which to do with my time." Jessica smiled at her. "And I am loyal to the Capellan state. If I die fighting, then so be it."

Monika Lee smiled back. "I admire that. If only we had gotten to know one another in better times."

"We still have a few hours left. Perhaps we can talk about each other for a little while." Jessica said as she offered her hand. "Are you ready?"

"Yes, my dear. Thank you." Monika Lee said as her old, tired body was helped up. The two women soon started to clamber up the low cliff face.

Dominic was standing at the base of the mountainous rock wall as he could see the cave openings above. There were just around two dozen of them left now. The few bodyguards that had survived bore horrific wounds and most were being carried up in stretchers by the very delegates they were supposed to protect. Almost all of the archaeologists of Babylon were now dead as they died fighting to defend their city; the few students that had survived were part of the infirmary crew. Dominic was amazed at the fighting spirit of these people, even though they had no military experience; few broke under fire and most kept resisting on until they were all killed. You could measure accuracy in the shooting range and endurance during physical training but courage was another matter entirely. Was it because of what the Star League had represented to them? That humanity could be united and everyone could live in peace? Dominic wondered as he saw Count Seiji Oshiwara being helped onto the base of a nearby boulder with his sole bodyguard, _Tai-i_ Chifune Kishikawa.

Dominic limped over to the pair as he saw Count Oshiwara hand his assault rifle to Chifune. "Ready to make a short climb, Count Oshiwara?" The SLDF Intelligence Officer said.

"Yes, thank you." Despite the seriousness of it all, Oshiwara made a toothy grin. Dominic was amazed at that man, it was apparent that the wounds on both his right knee and shoulder were giving him a lot of pain yet the Minister of the Draconis Combine never showed the slightest hint of pain or discomfort.

Chifune turned to face Dominic as she slung a second rifle over her shoulder. "Major Durant, this is where I leave you."

"What?" Dominic's eyes widened. "We could use you as sniper cover on the cave entrance."

"I am afraid she is correct," Count Oshiwara said, "_Tai-i_ Kishikawa will be better off if she can cover us from here."

Dominic realized that they were right. If Chifune would stay with them in the caves, she would not have a chance to relocate after every shot; therefore she would just be another target. If she were allowed to operate along the jagged rocks and boulders at the base of the mountain on the other hand, then she would be able to harass anyone who would try to make their way to the caves. The one problem was that she would have to fight alone and they would ultimately pinpoint her. It was a suicide mission.

Count Oshiwara and Chifune spoke for a short while in Japanese and then the Otomo bodyguard bowed down. Oshiwara nodded in assent and turned away to start climbing the boulder as one of the secretaries began to help him up. Chifune stayed kneeling on the ground for a few minutes before getting up. As Dominic glanced at her face, he noticed a single tear roll down her left eye.

"I realize now what you will do." Dominic said to her as he tired his best to smile but only a slight smirk revealed itself. "I won't forget about you."

Chifune looked away when he said those words. "My master realizes that as a bodyguard, I can do my duty better if I fight alone now. How I would wish to gladly die by his side but he knows I can do more down here. It is painful in not knowing what will happen to him because I had sworn an oath to the Dragon to protect him with my life." She said wistfully.

"You have done your duty many times over, _Tai-_i Kishikawa." Dominic said. "Good luck to you and may we meet again someday."

"Thank you, Major." For a brief instant, Chifune cast her infectious, teenage smile over to Dominic and he was pleasantly startled by it. "I too hope to meet you again someday as well, in better circumstances of course."

Dominic watched her walk down amongst the boulders until she was out of sight. So many people were already dead and he never got to know most of them. A part of him thought about surrendering to the Blakists; after all, what was the point of continuing the struggle if they were going to die anyway? But the thought had quickly passed as he saw that despite the hopelessness, despite the despair, not a single one of the survivors had asked about giving up. Their bodies were battered and full of horrific wounds and yet, they kept up the struggle. Is this what the true symbol of what the Star League stood for? He thought. That despite all their differences, they were all ready to give up their lives so that the Star League would continue. Dominic gritted his teeth as he started to climb the first boulder. If one were given a choice, to live under tyranny and war or to die so that everyone else could have peace, what would one choose? For them, the path was already chosen. If the price of peace for all mankind was their lives, so be it.

As he made it to the lip of the cave, he was instantly helped up by Baroness Mishai Singh, the Delegate of the Federated Suns. "Thank you, Baroness." Dominic said as he caught his breath. The last part of the short climb was somewhat steep and he nearly slipped.

"You're welcome, Major." Mishai Singh said. "This desert moon is incredible; first the lost city, now this."

"Have you been inside?" Dominic said as he peered into the twilit interiors.

"Yes, it seems this place might shed light on what happened to the builders of Babylon."

"Oh, how so?"

"Follow me." With that, Baroness Singh led the SLDF Intelligence officer inside.

Karen Udeze slumped on the rock wall beside the cave entrance. She was worn-out from helping everyone up into the cave and let out a groan of exhaustion as she closed her tired eyes and tried to rest for just one minute. Her stewardess' uniform was no longer covered with crimson stains of blood but had now become a khaki jumpsuit from the desert sands.

"Karen." A greeting nearby instantly made her active again as Karen Udeze opened her eyes.

Jessica Bradshaw stood over her and smiled as she handed a container of warm, tepid water to her former colleague.

"Thank you." Karen said as she gulped down half the liquid and passed it back to her.

"Look, Karen," Jessica said as she put the bottle back in her pack and sat down beside her, "we haven't talked that much since everyone found out."

"No, we haven't." Karen Udeze acknowledged. They had been working together in the DropShip _Amerigo_ for years, knowing and trusting one another to the point that they were practically like sisters. The revelation that Jessica Bradshaw was an intelligence operative working for the _Maskirovka_ was a complete shock. For a short time after, Karen could not bear the presence of her former colleague, she felt that she had been used; Karen Udeze had always told Jessica her most intimate personal secrets and the thought that she was a completely different woman sent a lightning bolt of shock coursing through her body. Could Karen ever trust her best friend now that everything she knew prior to that was a lie? That was the question that plagued her since the revelation and she still couldn't make up her mind. But now, Karen Udeze had to make a decision.

Jessica briefly looked away before turning to face her again. Karen could see that they were both changed women.

"I know we once said to each other that there would be no secrets between us." Jessica said wistfully.

"Yes, I remember."

"Karen, I just want you to know." Jessica bit her lip. "I still think of us as soul sisters and I would have never done anything to willingly put you or the _Amerigo_ in harm's way. I hope you think that I am telling the truth."

"Is that what your handlers told you?"

"They never told me anything other than to deliver the datadisk to another courier the moment we'd have landed in Tharkad." Jessica Bradshaw said as she looked the other way again; she could see the hurt in Karen's eyes. "My training had always been to protect the packages I was transporting with my life if it came down to it."

Tears welled in Karen's eyes. She remembered Captain De Llandes and the rest of the crew; they were all dead now, except the two of them. "And if the situation warranted it, would you have sacrificed everyone on the _Amerigo_ as well if they ordered you to do so?"

"I-I can't answer that." Jessica said as she started sobbing. "I'm sorry. If you hate me, I understand." As the tears flowed, the _Maskirovka_ operative got up and began to walk away.

"Jessica, wait!" Karen Udeze too stood up and hugged her colleague as they both cried in each other's arms. "I forgive you. Whatever happens, we will always be soul sisters."

"Oh God, thank you." Jessica said as she wiped the tears from her eyes with a dusty, bloodstained cloth. "I just wish I had a chance to ask Captain De Llandes and the others to forgive me as well."

"We are all that's left now." Karen said as she made a little smile as the tears on her cheeks began to dry. "Our Captain was a believer in the Star League and she died defending it. I've made my mind up that I'm going to fight for it too, I just hope I could be as heroic as she was."

"Just stay close to me, we'll make it." Jessica Bradshaw smiled back at her best friend. She knew it was a lie but it didn't matter now.

"Here." Karen handed her a fully loaded Imperator sub-machinegun. "I never used one of these things, maybe you'll have better use for it."

"Keep it." Jessica Bradshaw smiled as she handed it back to Karen. "I'll teach you how to use it. Anyway, Major Durant gave me this." With those words, she pulled out a small auto-pistol from her jacket.

If it weren't for his exhaustion, Dominic would have marveled at the cave complex that they were in. The tunnels looked like they were dug by hand into the solid rock face as he walked deeper into the extensive passageways that were large enough for a horse to stride through. It looked like one main tunnel and a number of smaller, intersecting side tunnels were carved into the cliff. Although it looked to be good as a defensive position, he knew they just didn't have the manpower nor did they have the ammunition; most of the surviving defenders had no more than two or three magazines or powerpacks for their small collection of hand weapons; they had a few grenades left and some homemade Napalm but that would only last in the first few minutes of the engagement. Two surviving bodyguards were lying down in stretchers; they asked to be posted near the entrance where they would offer a fanatical resistance to anyone who tried to rush the cave lip. The rest of the defenders were merely clerks and secretaries as well as a few surviving students of the Smythe-Dayan Expedition; these people had no military experience and would be of very limited use in a fight; a military analyst would have declared the situation hopeless at this point. But even with those long odds, everyone still wanted to keep fighting, it was just a marvel to him that they still wouldn't break.

"Do you see that?" Mishai Singh pointed to a carved niche in a side passage.

"Yes, looks like a hollowed out, lozenge-shaped hole on the side of the tunnel." Dominic answered.

"Correct. This looks like the intended final resting place of whoever built that city below us."

"Tombs?" Dominic gasped. He had thought that these cave complexes were perhaps used as shelters for outlying inhabitants aside from the ancient city. He was wrong.

"Yes, tombs." Baroness Mishai Singh said with finality. "Our tombs."


	33. 31 Solitude

What was once a wave of frustration had by now transformed itself into a storm of despair as Brandon St. Jamais waited impatiently near the base of the mountain with the rest of the infantry squads. The incline meant that armored fighting vehicles as well as BattleMechs would be of little use to them now and the decisive blow would have to be done by his unit of WOB soldiers and LOM commandos. There were by now less than three squads of his men left. Last night's battle had taken a toll on the unit in terms of casualties but each surviving soldier, regardless of his or her standing last night, was now a battle-hardened veteran, each one had tasted and endured the experience of war; that they had seen their brothers and sisters taken away in stretchers or zip-locked in body bags only added to their resolve to see it through. They all knew that the defenders were now reduced to a handful, huddling for a last stand up there in the caves. All wanted in now for the final battle. They would avenge their fallen comrades. And they would spare no mercy.

The latest weather forecast was that another sandstorm was moving into the area within a few hours time. Brandon had never operated this long in a desert environment but he was now beginning to feel at home in it. Just like jungles and forests would have rain, the desert would have dust storms; where the rain of the tropics gave life to its plants, the dust storms would only add to the bleakness and desolation of the desert sands. A cruel but synergistic irony, he thought.

Brandon keyed in his throat mike. "_Precentor_ to 'Mech-One, come in."

"This is 'Mech-One," The slow but steady voice of _Adept_ Amon Goth filled his earpiece, "reading you loud and clear, _Precentor_."

"Are you in position?"

"Affirmative." That meant that his 'Mech forces had flanked the mountainside. If by chance the defenders could evade his infantry by attempting to make a run in all directions, the BattleMechs, tanks as well as the remaining helicopters would be able to run them down before the enemy could scatter. He had them boxed in, there was no way out.

"Stand by," Brandon ordered, "another dust storm on the way in an hour or so, that's our signal to begin final offensive."

"Roger that, Wilco."

Brandon did not add that the suspected sniper was still out there, near the rocky crags and crevices just below the entrance of the caves. By waiting for the _Sherji_, his men would be afforded extra cover from the sniper's line of fire, and not to mention that it would give his handpicked team some time to take care of that problem. The _Precentor_ then signaled his men to stay put and get ready; they were about to make the final push. This time they would not wait for nightfall, already the mission had gone on far too long already and he needed to end this now. All they needed to do was endure few more minutes of bloody combat and he would be back home in Terra, watching his vidtapes and waiting for the next assignment. He wanted to get out of this place as soon as it was done, his older bother Cameron St. Jamais would probably give him a dressing down as to why it took so long and his high casualty list but it wouldn't matter; once he had the datadisk, all would be forgiven.

Chifune Kishikawa moved her left knee up slightly higher as she sat, wedged in between two large boulders as she kept observing the base of the mountain below her. Already the sandstorm had begun to cast wispy shadows that made the spotting of the Blakist enemy all the more harder for her. That she had only two rounds left in the sole remaining magazine of the Minolta 9000 sniper rifle only added to her adversity; a second, less accurate automatic rifle was slung over her left shoulder, although it had a less effective range, she had two full magazines to go with that. She had also tried to test the Minolta's scope on it earlier that day but it was a poor match because of the upper sights of the assault rifle did not have the exact match of the Minolta. Anyway, she would make do with what she had, as always. She had a duty to do- _Giri_, the Japanese concept of obligation, demanded it.

As the _Sherji_ began to build up in intensity, throwing small vortexes of sand into the hot, arid air, two men kept creeping forward, just ahead of the main body of Blakists. They were a hunter-killer team assigned to the task of removing the elusive sniper once and for all. The first man, Rogelio Chavez, had been pulled out of the crashed Pinto helicopter the night before. He had a sprained ankle and a bruised back but even more so, his pride was deeply hurt and his rage was unabated after seeing many of his LOM colleagues die. Chavez felt that he had a score to settle with this sniper, he felt like a big-game hunter going up against a another, identical hunter, the prize was both bragging rights and the thought of a job well done. The second man was also a LOM operator, but instead of carrying a sniper rifle he was equipped with an electronic compass and macro-binoculars; he would serve as the spotter for Chavez, who would then make the killing blow. Both men had worked with each other before and both knew each other's strengths and weaknesses intimately; they stalked as one and they would kill as one.

Chavez preferred to bide his time but it was not on his side; as soon as the dust storm picked up, the WOB infantry squads would begin the attack. He had to take out the sniper before it could pick away at the troops. The LOM operator crawled by the inch, using his high-powered scope to check for any inconsistencies along the contours of the crags. If it was night all he had to do was to switch to infrared sights to focus on any artificial light in the shadows of the rocks but since it was broad daylight, everything was of monochrome color, the color of the desert. Using his scope, Chavez carefully scanned each crack and niche in every boulder, if he spotted something that was not part of the background then it must be the sniper.

She could normally sense it when the enemy was near; it was one of her gifts. Already the hairs at the back of her neck were tingling, despite being infused with the sands of the desert. Chifune carefully tucked her legs in until she was at a prone position, her stomach lying on the cool pile of rocks she had placed there a few hours before. The two boulders that she was astride from had a perfect view of the mountain base below; if the enemy were going to attack, they would be coming through here. She had not taken a bath since they had crash-landed on the planet over a week ago, her entire body and clothing was now practically one with the desert. Sensing some movement at the rocky crags in front of her, The Otomo bodyguard began to sight using the scope on the sniper rifle.

He sensed that the enemy sniper was close by as well as he inched slowly forward while lying as flat on his stomach as he could. Chavez had forgone the hockey helmet in preference to the _kheffiyah_ and so it allowed him a greater degree of camouflage in the desert. The minutes felt like hours as the sweat would dribble from his forehead and would sting his eyes, taking his concentration off the scope while he wiped away the liquid salt from his brow.

Brandon looked at his watch again in silent frustration. They needed to go in now, the longer they waited, the worse the consequences would be. They needed to finish this quickly. With a wave of his hand, he signaled the infantry squads to begin moving as he got up and started a slow walk towards the rocky incline.

Chifune quickly sensed an increased activity below as a large number of blurred but distinct forms began to appear at the base of the mountain. They looked to be coming in dumb, she thought. As the minutes passed, she could begin to see the details of their battle fatigues and the kind of weapons that they carried. They had now entered into the extreme range of the Minolta 9000 and if she only had several full magazines with the special armor-piercing explosive rounds that the sniper rifle used, this would then be a very short fight. At this point, once she used up the last two rounds, she would have to wait another while until they got to within range of the backup rifle that she carried. Although the scope would still give her unmatched accuracy, the combat ranges would be level between them.

Rogelio Chavez made a silent curse as he heard the order to advance on his receiver. He needed more time to root out that sniper but he also realized that the mission as a whole had already ran past their allotted time. Forgoing adversity, the LOM sniper stared to crawl faster while making less detailed observations.

The desert winds were becoming angrier as the sand began to blow around them. The first stirrings of the _Sherji_ was beginning to be felt as the infantry squads began to trot forward. Brandon had decided to lead first; already he could see that the morale of his men was faltering and he needed to show them that he was willing to brave what they had endured the night before.

"Follow me! To victory!" With a wave of his hand, Brandon extolled his troops as he began to race up the rocks towards where the base of the mountain was just as the wind began to howl. His men, seeing that their leader was going up first, scrambled to catch up with him.

The spotter too sensed the renewed urgency around him as he rapidly began to scan his binoculars left and right, wriggling up from a pile of nearby boulders. If he could find the sniper now, all might not be lost, he thought as he began to get up on his knees.

Sensing a brief flash of reflective illumination at her left flank, Chifune quickly swiveled the rifle's bipod in that direction. As she sighted through the khaki haze, she noticed a crouching figure holding a pair of binoculars. It was a spotter! Quickly sighting the enemy's head on her targeting reticule, Chifune squeezed the trigger.

The 7.62mm slug from the Minolta 9000 instantly blew the spotter's face off and came out of the side of his neck as the LOM commando pitched backwards into the crag. She had one round left.

Chavez heard a gurgle from his earphone as he grimaced in mental anguish. He needed to kill that enemy sniper now. The LOM operator kept his composure as he continued to scan the area with his scope. Judging from where his colleague got shot, he realized that the shot had had to come from between two boulders less than fifty meters in front of him.

Chifune quickly became alarmed. She had killed a spotter so now it was certain that there was another sniper in the area. But the question was, would the hunter-killer team move closely with each other or did the spotter try to veer off in order to mask the real area where the enemy sniper lay, possibly catching her in a pincer move? Chifune guessed the former as she began to scan the area where she killed the spotter nearby.

"Come on!" Brandon shouted amid the swirling wind as he kept racing up the base of the mountain. His men were right behind him as they readied their rifles.

As a number of soldiers began to stream into her sights, Chifune quickly recognized one of the men leading the squads. She had seen the trivid of him and she knew it was none other than Brandon St. Jamais, the entire unit's commanding officer. She had one bullet left, why not for him? Time to end this now, Chifune thought as she leveled her breathing while putting his forehead into the targeting reticule of her scope.

That was it! Chavez's heart nearly leapt out from his armored vest as he saw the glint of a scope peering out from between the two boulders. Judging from the noises of the men behind him, he knew that he only had one shot and needed to make it count. Although he couldn't see the head behind the scope, there was only one, very risky, alternative left to him. As his breathing became almost trance-like, Chavez fired his rifle.

Just as Chifune started to squeeze the Minolta's trigger, an object seemed to block the view on her scope for a brief millisecond. The 7.62mm round then smashed through the lenses of the sniper scope and entered her right eye. Chifune felt like something poked her in the eye and then felt nothing at all as the bullet passed through her optic nerve, slashing through the cerebral cortex and shattered into several pieces inside the base of her skull.

The Minolta 9000 clattered to the side as she fell backwards into the cool, rocky crevasse, twitching in her death throes as her blood and brains became one with the desert sands.


	34. 32 Blowback

Rapping his knuckles on the control panel didn't really alleviate things but it did give the Captain of the WOB JumpShip _Zarathustra_ something to do. His crew was somewhere between the verge of total frustration and complete boredom. In the past few days he ordered a number of emergency drills just to keep them all on their toes but even then, it was still frustrating. Their mission had originally entailed them to a timeframe of no more than three hours at the most but then as the ancient military maxim had stated: _no battle plan survives contact with the enemy_.

They were supposed to rendezvous with the ROM operative in the Star League JumpShip, and recover the datadisk after a thorough search. Then all the hostages would be killed in the uninhabited star system, their bodies disposed of and none would be the wiser. But then the delegates did an unexpected thing: they fought back and now there had been a tremendous number of casualties sustained in combat operations on the desert moon. Despite their seeming boredom, the JumpShip crew at least counted themselves lucky that they weren't on the ground.

The _Zarathustra_ had been floating in space near the gas giant's zenith for over a week now. Her jump sails had already fully charged the K-F drive and she just needed to retrieve the DropShips on the ground and they would be back to Terra in a matter of days. The JumpShip's Captain waited impatiently, the word was that the final assault to recover the datadisk was beginning and the retrieval order could happen anytime now. He hoped that everything would finally be settled; already his crew was experiencing mission creep.

A muttered curse quickly got his attention as the Captain swiveled his command chair to face the ship's Navigator, who was peering intently at his own instrument panel. "What is it?" The JumpShip Captain asked.

"Its that ambient reading on the ship's radar again, sir." The ship's navigator spoke as he continued to stare at his panel.

With nothing else to do, the Captain of the _Zarathustra_ unstrapped himself from his command chair and floated over to where the Navigator was. They had been in null gravity for over a week now and that was a worrying sign. "Is this that same reading you told me about a few hours ago?" He asked.

"Yes, sir." The Navigator said. "I thought it might have been a glitch in the sensors so I did a diagnostic scan; all sensors seem to be working optimally. But then the reading reappeared again just a few minutes ago. So I checked the systems a second time and then a third reading happened just now."

"Just now? What do you think it is?"

"Not quite sure, Captain." The Navigator said. Although the Captain's rank in the Blakist hierarchy was officially an _Adept_, the Word Of Blake naval crews tended to stick with the traditional names as far as ranks went. "It could be nothing more than anomalous readings such as floating debris and such. The only sure way is that I take the entire system offline and do a hardware check-including an EVA at the sensor node on the outer hull."

"Well if it seems to be working okay now then I guess we could wait until we get to dry dock at the Titan shipyards in the Terra system." The Captain said before looking up into space as a probable thought had just crossed his mind. "Wait, have you pinpointed the location of those readings?"

The ship's Navigator's eyes opened wide at the suggestion. Why didn't he think of it before? It must have been the creeping lethargy that had finally let his intuition lapse. "One minute, sir." He said as he began plotting the coordinates of the anomalous readings into the ship's computer. As he began analyzing the locations, the young WOB technician let out a soft gasp.

"What did you find?" The Captain asked.

"Sir, the first reading I recorded was there," The Navigator said as he traced a blip on the virtual map with his finger, "then the second reading is here and the third, here." His voice trailed off into a muted dread.

The Captain's mouth gaped in a silent scream at the implications. The first reading was recorded about several hundred kilometers off the _Zarathustra's_ starboard bow. The second reading pinpointed it at several hundred kilometers closer. And the third, more powerful reading had it less than a dozen kilometers off the aft hull of the _Zarathustra_.

"All hands!" The Captain began to scream as he scrambled to his command chair. "General quarters! Open up a visual link with the cameras at our aft hull."

As the crew began to snap out of their languid stupors, the Navigator recovered first as he activated the ship's cameras at the aft hull. As the crew began to mentally prepare themselves, every eye was trained at the vidscreen. At first it showed nothing more than a void of darkness, a wall of night that was occasionally illuminated by distant points of light from nearby stars. The Navigator stared out intently into the blackness, until he noticed something that made him shriek in a mixture of fear and terror. He noticed that one of the points of light flickered and seemed to die but that was only because it was apparent that a large object obscured it from view.

Even as the JumpShip began to fire its thrusters to move away, the all-black _Union_-Class DropShip fired its nose mounted weapons into her aft hull, severing several control lines from the JumpShip's outstretched solar sail, ripping off its supports. The second volley from the left side of the DropShip ripped into the _Zarathustra's_ pencil-thin hull, literally disemboweling the delicate JumpShip as it began to tear itself apart. The DropShip then continued towards the desert moon without even a pause to savor its kill.

_Sang-wei_ Chang Pao used both hands on the control stick as his 25-Ton _Thrush_ Aerospace fighter began its reentry into the moon's upper atmosphere. As the heat scale on the fighter's instrument panel began to flash a warning light indicating that the modified fighter's double heat sinks had now reached their limit, Chang's real concern was not to let the _Thrush_ get into a spin. Nicknamed the "Frisbee" by its pilots because of its rounded wings that extended all the way to its tail, the _Thrush_ was the lightest and most maneuverable fighter in the Capellan arsenal. Although it had good speed, the Thrush was also prone to dangerous spins in the high atmosphere and so therefore Chang was being extra careful. The veteran Death Commando was also quite surprised at the new systems that were installed into his fighter just for this operation; Chang smiled at the _Thrush's_ newly developed stealth armor that enabled him to sneak past the unsuspecting WOB Jumpship and start his reentry ahead of schedule. That the DropShip that he was traveling with also had stealth systems only made things easier.

While the fighter's hull started to vibrate as it began to enter the desert moon's upper atmosphere, Chang's comm. unit instantly activated. "Whisper to Edge, we have neutralized the enemy JumpShip- proceed to stage two." It was the DropShip signaling that the enemy vessel was destroyed.

"Roger, Wilco." Chang acknowledged as the vibrations began to die down indicating that the _Thrush_ now entered the planetary atmosphere. Both his fighter's nose sensors as well as the DropShip orbiting above were feeding the _Thrush's_ computer the locations of the enemy base camp and ground troops. Within a few minutes a shrill beep from the console indicated that the positions were now locked in. As he set his course and gunned up the throttle, Chang began a diagnostic check on his fighter's ordnance. From what he carried, even a near miss would suffice.

_Adept_ Dragan Vosanovic grunted as he stretched to his full upright position. He had been working for the past few days with the techs to repair his damaged _Riever_ heavy Aerospace fighter. Unexpected problems with the ARCLIGHT nuclear missile system had damaged both his fighter as well as his wingman's plane and it was only in the past few hours that the exhausted WOB technicians finally had a chance to put all of their energies into it. As Vosanovic stretched his shoulders he realized just how much damage the delegates had done to the entire unit; quite a lot of technicians died during the raid on their base camp a few days ago and the remaining ones were diverted in order to prioritize repairs on the other pieces of equipment of the unit, it was deemed that since the delegates had neither the airpower nor could they be targeted using aerospace assets that it came to be that Vosanovic and his air unit would be dead last in the queue in regards to repairs. Being a team player, the veteran LOM pilot swallowed his pride and did the best he could to help out the beleaguered techs, even going so far as to fix simple problems with the Gnat remote aero-drones.

"We've finally repatched the armor on my Riever's nose." Vosanovic's wingman said as he walked over to him. "I just need to do a systems check and we could be airborne after that."

Vosanovic turned as he placed the wrench that he was holding on the side of his Riever's fuselage. "What about the ARCLIGHT system? Still having glitches?"

"Like you wouldn't believe. The little spare parts we have were burned up when the DropShip caught fire during that raid. May Blake curse the souls of those delegates." His wingman said. "I had the techs take out the ARCLIGHT and replace it with the 200mm ULTRA autocannon."

"Well I think I got mine to work, so far," Vosanovic smiled. The wind was picking up and it looked like the dust storm would hit them shortly. "Once this accursed sandstorm finishes I'll get my fighter up for a test."

"Looks like Blake blessed you more than me." His wingman said as he looked up into the sky. "It's a fine day to fly. Give me a few more hours and I'll join you."

"No problem, now that mine is almost done, I'll go help you with yours; that's what wingmates are for, right?"

"Look!" Vosanovic's wingman exclaimed as he pointed at a speck in the sky. "What in Blake's hell is that?"

Vosanovic turned and looked up into the direction where his partner was pointing. The speck looked like an Aerospace fighter, and it was getting closer.

With his elapsed time showing less than two minutes to the target, Chang was already on full afterburners as the dark-green _Thrush_ came in at over 600 knots, just below 3000 feet. Always a methodical pilot, Chang went through his combat checklist as each system glared back with an affirmative green. He could clearly see that all three DropShips had landed close to each other for mutual support. While it made the camp more defensible from a ground attack, it also made it one big fat target for a bombing run.

For a few brief seconds, Vosanovic stared out into the sky in disbelief. It was definitely an Aerospace fighter, one that was clearly not on their side. But how did it get so close without activating the early-warning defense net? Why didn't the _Zarathustra_ send them a message that enemy forces were approaching? He didn't have any time to take off and his _Riever's_ weapons were inadequate, but it looked like just a single Aerospace fighter and judging from its speed, it resembled a light fighter. "Scramble, now." Vosanovic told his wingman as he threw off the toolkit from his _Riever's_ fuselage and started to climb up to the cockpit. His wingman started running towards his own identical fighter. Vosanovic had a feeling, deep at the back of his mind, that it may have been already too late but his professional skills just took over as he put on his helmet and began to activate his fighter's fusion power plant. A few technicians that also saw the approaching enemy started to run towards the nearby DropShips to alert the base camp.

At two miles from the camp, Chang Pao pulled back on his control stick as the _Thrush_ arced back into a near vertical climb. As Chang yanked it back even more to where his fighter was now vertical, he heard a light chink as the bomb underneath his fuselage detached. As soon as he felt it, the Death Commando then kept pulling back on his stick until the _Thrush_ made a classic _Immelman_-maneuver as it flew upside down and rolled until the cockpit was once again right side up with the horizon but facing in the opposite direction as it streaked away.

Even as his _Riever's_ thrusters hummed to life, Vosanovic knew it was too late. He saw the enemy aircraft go vertical and began to veer away and it was then he knew what it was carrying. By the time he was able to taxi his fighter to the prefabricated runway it would be too late. The veteran WOB pilot then did an unexpected thing- he flicked a switch on his console as the _Riever's_ thrusters began to die down. It won't be long now, he thought as his life began to flash before his eyes.

"_Adept_ Vosanovic," His wingman said over the _Riever's_ comm. link. "The runway is still clogged with sand. What do we do?"

"We die." Vosanovic answered nonchalantly.

Although the bomb weighed nearly a ton, it contained less high explosive than a 120mm artillery shell. The miniature chip on the warhead detected the drop in altitude and detonated just thirty meters off the ground. The stored plutonium instantly went to critical mass and released a sixty-kiloton shockwave near the center of the base camp. A brief flash of multi-spectrum light emanated from the area for a brief microsecond before transforming itself into an ever-expanding orange fireball- a miniature sun blossoming near the desert sands, temperatures reaching over thirty million degrees. Around the man-made star, a massive shockwave of compressed air formed an invisible but devastating bubble around it as both expanded ever outwards. Much of the nearby desert sands turned into radioactive glass particles as a giant mushroom cloud forced back even the immortal winds of the _Sherji_, for the first time ion the moon's history. Everything within the fireball was ionized as it covered a thousand feet across its impact zone while radioactive winds of up to 4,000 km per hour expanded even further, carrying radioactive debris of death.

Chang activated his fighter's comm. link as he aimed the _Thrush's_ nose towards the heavens. "Edge to Whisper, stage two completed. You may now begin insertion of ground forces."


	35. 33 Cry Havoc

Eleven jet-black metallic titans lay nestled in their cocoons as they awaited the orders to begin their dance of death. Normally there would be twelve of them but on this particular mission, their objective was to retrieve the missing one. Cables that fed streams of information jutted out from their hookups but would be detached as soon as the cavernous drop tubes would open. The vessel that carried them looked like a giant, metallic ball with a hole in its rear that spewed forth fire and brimstone as it burned towards the desert moon's upper atmosphere. Each mechanical giant carried enough firepower to level cities and smash armies but it was almost as if invisible hands held the reins and would unleash their destructive force only when the proper time came. While the soft hum of the fusion engines reverberated along the cubicles, each of the pilots lay strapped in their cockpits, waiting to be unbound like the dogs of war that they were.

Lieutenant Lewis Sorenson kept his eye on the topographical readouts while sitting in the cockpit of his 75-ton _Dark Knight_ BattleMech. Even at this stage of the mission, his navigational settings were being constantly updated with the latest reports as both the _Union_ class DropShip and the _Thrush_ Aerospace fighter kept scanning both the terrain and the ongoing battle below. Sorenson had decided to make a combat drop right on top of the enemy forces; it seemed that the Blakists were already making preparations for the final attack on the beleaguered delegates at that very minute. The initial proposal for a soft-landing and embarkation from the DropShip dozens of kilometers away was ruled out just minutes before due to time constraints. It was possible that they may be already too late, he thought. Sorenson's hands trembled slightly as he continued to check the current positions of the WOB forces. This was going to be close and very, very risky.

The remaining two members of his command lance were both women, and both had very different thoughts as time trickled on. The first was young dark-haired Beatrix Banzai; she was one of the newer members of the unit. All that she could feel was a nervous apprehension as she kept rehearsing the tactics and skills within her mind in a hopeful attempt to not let her team down. The second woman stared out into the darkness of her modified _Black Hawk-KU_'s darkened cockpit; she had deactivated the internal lights in her cockpit as her soul boiled in rage. Ten years ago, Tara Ravin had been one of the hottest young MechWarriors in the Twenty-First Centauri Lancers, a premier mercenary unit that was to be employed by ComStar to help garrison humanity's birthplace: Terra. All that changed when the Blakists took the unit's dependents hostage in an attempt to blackmail the Lancers so that a WOB unit could infiltrate Terra using the very guise of the mercenaries in order to conquer it. The resulting operation was highly successful as the Blakists were able to wrest control of Terra from their hated ComStar brethren. That WOB also executed her parents and younger brother as a show of force only made her more vengeful towards this radical splinter group of former ComStar fanatics. But the most humiliating event of all was that the Lancers high command decided to cooperate with the Blakists and forbade any sort of retaliation as WOB returned their remaining dependents to them. It was then that Tara resigned her commission with the Lancers and became a freelancer who joined any group opposed to the Blakist theocracy. Now that she was with the Black Widows and now that they were going up against the Blakists, her body trembled with anticipation as thoughts of revenge penetrated every fiber of her soul.

A loud beep snapped her out of her brooding as she punched in the receiver. "What is it?" Tara snarled.

"It's me." The voice belonged to the Widow's Executive Officer, Lewis Sorenson. "Tara, I just wanted to remind you- I know this is a personal thing with you and I understand, but try to stick with the gameplan, okay?"

"Don't worry about it." Her voice was soft as silk but he could still feel the rage.

"Okay, then. I won't bother you any more about it. Remember what I said." With that, her 'Mech's private comm. link went silent again.

It was then that she noticed that she had subconsciously curled her gloved hands into fists and had clenched her teeth in an animal-like grimace. Tara knew he was right, of course. The best way to do it was to stay disciplined; if she kept her cool she could stay alive longer and kill more of them. That last thought gave her some comfort as she allowed herself to relax somewhat.

While the command lance was short of one 'Mech, namely their commanding officer, the other two lances of the Black Widows were at full strength. Jimmy Clavell's Wolf Spider lance would be the first to drop down onto the enemy positions followed closely by the Widow Command lance and the assault-class Tarantulas would launch last.

Lieutenant Jimmy "Casanova" Clavell took off his black and red colored neurohelmet for the sixth time since he strapped himself into the pilot's chair of his _Mad Cat Mk II_ BattleMech and inhaled a deep breath as he wiped off the sweat from his forehead. Alcohol and light gravity did not mix, he thought to himself as he was still fighting to get through his hangover. He had been drinking since they lifted off from Tharkad and had gone through countless instantaneous jumps as the entire unit traveled across the borders of the Lyran Alliance towards the uninhabited Polyphemos system using a command circuit of waiting JumpShips. Clavell closed his eyes as he popped another stim pill into his mouth that would hopefully stop the incessant pounding in his head.

As Stilicho Jones was playing a racing game using his _Pillager's_ computer console, a loud beep sounded on his comm. link signifying a call was coming through to his private line. The former Archer's Avenger punched the accept button after pausing his game.

"Hey, buddy! What's up?" the voice belonged to non other than his lance mate, Johnny Gundam.

"I'm at stage sixteen of my Need Fer Speed v7021 game, you're botherin' me." Stilicho quipped.

"Oh I'm sorry Mr. Car Racer, sir. I just finished stage twenty-two on that one."

"You dog. Did you have one of the techs crack the code to enable the cheats?"

"You insult me." Gundam said. "I never cheat."

"Suuure." Stilicho said sarcastically. "Quit botherin' me. I wanna get back into my game."

"Oh, well I just wanted to ask if you want to put up a new wager again." Gundam said. "Even though you lost the last one you still won't ante up. Let's say I bet you 50,000 C-Bills on who gets the most kills on this one. How about it?"

"You didn't exactly win that last bet, Johnny."

"Oh yes I did. I took out those two _Fafnirs_ clean and square. And I didn't even have to use my lasers or the Thunderbolt."

"You only took out the last one 'cause I pinned it to the wall of a skyscraper. I wouldn't call that winning 'fair and square'." Stilicho countered. "In fact, if it wasn't for me, you would have been toast."

"Oh yeah, I guess I do owe you one for that!" Gundam giggled. "Okay, pal. Let's start out with a clean slate this time, okay?"

"So you want just the number of 'Mechs killed, then? You could cleave a lot of light BattleMechs with that damned hatchet of yours and you're way faster than me." Stilicho said. "I think it would be more fair if we add up the total tonnage and go with that, don't you think?"

"Okay, buddy. It's a bet!"

"Well we can't shake each other's hand actuators this time so a verbal one would have to suffice." Stilicho added.

"I could always chop my way through the cocoon and slice open these doors with my trusty hatchet." Gundam said wistfully.

"Well if you do that, then I'm definitely gonna win, then. Now sign off and lemme get back to my game." Stilicho chuckled as he switched off the private comm. link before Gundam could counter his latest quip.

While the two veteran MechWarriors traded jibes with each other, the youngest member of the Wolf Spiders sat in the cockpit of his 45-ton _Stealth Hawk_ medium 'Mech in nervous anticipation. His stomach was beginning to cramp despite the fact that this was not his first combat drop. As he tried to slow his breathing by silently chanting a Buddhist mantra that the Monk had taught him, Chris MacLaren continued to shake like a little twig in a wind tunnel.

A loud beep coming from his private comm. link startled him as he nearly stood up from his cockpit chair but the restraints held him down. As he recovered his senses he punched the accept button and quickly acknowledged. "MacLaren here."

"Just checking on you, kid. You okay?" The calm and steady voice belonged to none other than Pale Rider, one of the members of the Monk's Tarantula Lance. MacLaren had been in countless tense situations with the Black Widows before but the one thing he observed was that Pale Rider's voice never changed no matter how bad it got; it was always cool and collected- like a rock that could be used as an anchor during a storm.

"Yeah, I think so." MacLaren smiled. A calm reassuring voice was all he needed. Already the butterflies were starting to settle down. "Thanks, I needed that."

"No problem, kid." Pale Rider said. "Just remember, stick to the game plan and follow orders. You'll do fine. Out."

Chris MacLaren couldn't help but smile as he rechecked his 'Mech's systems. His mind was clear now.

While the two were speaking, they did not realize that the Monk was silently listening in using his 'Mech's command circuit. He was tempted to say something to the lad but Pale Rider had done it for him. The Monk grinned in spite of himself as he flicked off the command circuit and continued to monitor the incoming topographical information.

The man called Sudden Smith sighed as he settled back on the chair of his 95-ton _Nightstar _assault 'Mech. Like many other MechWarriors he gave a nickname to his war machine; it was almost like a living person to him. He called his 'Mech the _Gilgamesh_, after a mythical Sumerian hero who led a failed quest for immortality. When he was young, he thought that he could fight on forever; but then came the battles and the deaths that seemed to never end. He had lost many friends, some casual, some close, and each time, it seemed to take away something from him; it made him feel like less of a human being when he lost someone dear to him. When Delilah died, it seemed like a tragedy; although it took him years to get over her, he seemed to finally make it through when he met Ameena. Although she wasn't like Delilah, she seemed charming in her own way. But when Ameena died too, he felt his whole world crumbling around him; and so he lived a kind of half-life, an existence that resembled that of an automaton, eating, sleeping, training and fighting. And that last battle nearly took away his life as well; he had been in a coma for months and had only recently recovered. His injuries were severe; he had lost both his legs and his right arm. By using the glory of technology they gave him advanced prosthesis that made him physically more powerful than he ever was before. But they never tried to fix what was needed the most, his soul.

Smith looked at his newer arm as he held in front of him. Although the fine touch wasn't there he could feel the artificial nerve endings that very much mimicked the way his original arm felt. But that was where the similarities ended. He knew that if he gave it enough force, the myomer-enhanced prosthesis could punch a hole in a brick wall if he so chose. Even though the MechWarrior combat suit covered his entire body he knew that half of him was now practically that of a machine. But would his soul be half mechanical as well?

"Attention, all 'Mechs. Prepare for drop." The DropShip Captain's voice sounded in his neurohelmet's earpiece. Smith could hear the clunking noise as the umbilicals detached themselves from his 'Mech. It wouldn't be long now.

As if on impulse, he willed his new fingers to activate the private comm. link to the 75-ton _Falconer_ heavy 'Mech to his right. "How are you doing, Kardra?" He asked.

"Like any warrior before battle, a mixture of anticipation, slight nervousness and a big sense of eagerness." The former Clan warrior said.

"Wolf Spiders, launching in three… two... one... DROP!" A loud clang reverberated throughout the entire DropShip's hull as the airlocks suddenly opened and ejected the Wolf Spiders into the howling atmosphere of the desert moon. As the 'Mechs would burn through the atmosphere, the cocoons surrounding them would both slow their descent by acting as a braking chute that could then be detached as they hit the ground.

"I know how that feels." Smith said softly. "This might not be a good time to bring this up but remember our last unarmed combat training session a few months ago?"

"_Aff_. What about it?"

"That time that I kicked you in the forehead during the sparring session, the one that stunned you temporarily? You were out for a full minute and as I was helping you up I said I was sorry, I was just wondering whether you heard me. I just wasn't sure if you were conscious or not."

"I heard it. You did very well that time, I thought I could block you and throw you using a countermove I knew but you were much quicker and more powerful than I had anticipated. You did indeed stun me temporarily but I was still conscious." She said.

"Widow Command lance, launching in three… two… one… DROP!" A thunderclap sounded as the Command lance was on their way. They would be next.

"Look, Kardra," Smith was feeling uneasy but he had to get it out of his system now. "You may not have known this but I had full power on the AMBLE system because of my prosthesis- I may have used too much force on you unfairly at that time. I truly was sorry when I apologized, but more truly sorry than you ever know and it still bothers me, even up to now."

"Are you saying you cheated? I am not offended." Kardra said. "But why would you bring this up now?"

"Because I just wanted to let you know in case we never get to talk again." Smith said as he cut off the comm. link.

"Tarantulas, launching in three… two… one… DROP!" As his words echoed in her mind, she began to feel an uneasiness that she never felt through all her years in the Clan homeworlds. When her former Clan, the Steel Vipers, was preparing to invade the Inner-Sphere, they had told her that she would be experiencing feelings that she never quite thought possible. It was a strange sensation that she felt now as she contemplated his words even as she felt the sudden lurch as her 'Mech began to slide down the rails towards the open sky.

And then they were gone, leaving behind hollow cubicles within the cavernous hold of the DropShip as the launch tubes began to close while the vessel started to climb back toward the heavens once more, to hold its position in high orbit and wait for the final outcome.


	36. 34 Despair

Despite the howling winds of the _Sherji_, the defenders sensed them because the enemy soldiers entered a number of other caves before they finally found the right one and so therefore had some time to prepare. The WOB infantrymen came in a single line as each succeeding soldier aimed at a different direction while venturing into the main tunnel of the cave. As soon as the first squad started making its way into the catacombs, both bodyguards on opposite ends of the side tunnels closest to the cave entrance opened up with point-blank bursts from their sub-machineguns. The first two squad-members instantly went down from a number of fatal wounds, as their armored vests were not enough to stop a barrage of explosive bullets hitting almost every part of their bodies. The succeeding soldiers quickly returned fire in every direction as they staggered clumsily backwards, their laser beams and 5.56mm slugs reverberating across the entire cave tunnel. Quickly readying their grenades, the first four soldiers threw them in a number of directions before once again resuming their advance into the tombs.

Although one of the already wounded bodyguards was instantly killed by the grenade shrapnel when they tore into his battered body, the other one was prudent enough to place his stretcher in front of his prone form and piled some rocks on top of that as additional protection; he was still alive and threw a high-explosive grenade of his own towards the entrance, just as he was gunned down by the second enemy soldier who was making his way through the main tunnel.

"Grenade!" A WOB soldier yelled as the fist-sized bomb rolled out into the mouth of the cave, right where several soldiers had lined up to follow the first squad. Everyone immediately started to scatter just as the grenade went off, followed by screams for medics to come to their aid.

At that moment, the remaining squad members that were already inside the cave entrance immediately came under fire from the adjoining tunnels. Although most of the firing was done by people who lacked training on how to aim and fire properly, the close range and the amount of laser beams and bullets were enough to maim and kill most of the squad. Men began to keel over and would either moan from their wounds or stopped breathing at all. The few survivors however, kept their cool and began to fire back as each knelt down, faced a different direction, and let loose with their own weapons.

Almost immediately, a number of defenders fell to the ground, mortally wounded from the Blakist return fire. As _Mandrissa_ Monika Lee tried to grab onto a wounded archaeology student to try to drag her back into the safety of an adjoining cave, a laser bolt eviscerated her stomach as she fell to the dusty floor, grimacing in an almost unimaginable pain. But despite her misery, Lee kept on groping for the fallen student as she tried desperately to crawl backwards even as her world began to fade around her.

"She's dead, let her go!" Karen Udeze cried out as she grabbed onto the folds of _Mandrissa_ Lee's dusty robes and tried to drag her away.

Lee said nothing as blood began to trickle down her mouth and her eyes began to turn white. As Karen kept dragging her away, she saw a wounded WOB soldier turn and face them as he pulled out a grenade.

"Look out!" Jessica Bradshaw said as she fired her small pistol at the enemy infantryman. The bullet smashed through the soldier's goggles and blood spurted from his face just as he threw the high-explosive grenade at them.

Karen screamed as the grenade landed just beside her. All her training as a flight attendant proved absolutely useless as she just stared at the fist-sized cylinder lying there.

"Take cover!" Jessica screamed as she threw herself on top of the grenade. A split second later, a muffled explosion could be heard as the _Maskirovka_ operative seemed to bounce slightly up into the air in her prone position as the grenade exploded beneath her. Within seconds, a pool of blood formed underneath her body.

"Jessica!" Karen wailed as she knelt beside her fallen friend. As she turned Jessica's face towards her, she noticed that her eyes were still open as blood dripped from the slightly opened mouth. They had reaffirmed their friendship just a few hours before and now she had lost her, this time forever.

A shadow loomed over her as Karen looked up and stared back at a goggle-eyed WOB soldier standing over her kneeling form. The infantryman looked like an armored robot, as she could see no trace of humanity in it while staring at nothing but ballistic armor and molded steel.

"Why?" Karen whispered as the enemy soldier calmly aimed his laser rifle at her face and fired point-blank. It was then that she felt a burning sensation on her features, as if she dived headfirst into the surface of the sun and then felt nothing as her lifeless body tipped over onto the dusty ground.

The defenders quickly rushed the outnumbered enemy soldiers while the second squad was still reforming outside. Count Seiji Oshiwara cleaved through several Blakists with his vibrokatana as he led a headlong charge into their ranks, screaming at the top of his lungs the ancient battle cry of the Samurai. As the moans of the wounded and dying from both sides reverberated along the tunnels, Dominic Durant threw a smoke grenade that he pilfered off a dead enemy soldier towards the cave entrance to try to gain some time just as the second wave of Blakists began to enter through the tunnel.

"Fall back!" Dominic shouted as he nearly fell face down on the ground as the enemy soldiers once more started advancing even while the main tunnel began to fill with smoke. Bullets and laser bolts began ricocheting and scorching the sides of the tunnel as the remaining defenders grabbed whatever weapons they could find off the fallen first wave of the enemy while beating a hasty retreat to any adjoining tunnel nearby. Several of them got wounded as they were helped back into cover. A few returned fire in order to slow the enemy advance but everyone knew it was just a matter of time now.

"Major Durant, over here!" Baroness Mishai Singh called out to Dominic as she fired a burst of automatic fire from her hip. She had minimal training on how to use the weapon as it reverberated wildly in almost every direction. Dominic winced as a near miss zinged passed his cheek by a scant inch. A loud click from her weapon indicated that she had ran out of ammunition just as Dominic got up and ran over to the adjoining tunnel where she was.

"Christ, you nearly shot me!" Dominic said as he crouched behind the cave wall while keeping his head out so that he could see into the main tunnel. He could hear sporadic fire coming from the entrance and it seemed to get louder, indicating that the enemy was advancing deep into the tombs and would get to where they were very quickly.

"I'm sorry, Major. I do not know how to operate these things." Singh said as she tried to pull out the magazine from the assault rifle but failed.

"Here, let me." Dominic said as he took the weapon from her, ejected the magazine and put in a fresh clip into the rifle.

Despite it all, the official representative of the Federated Suns smiled even as the gunfire became louder. "You might as well keep it." She said softly.

"What about you?" Dominic said as he readied the rifle on his shoulder.

"I'll manage." Singh said as she pulled out a small knife from the folds of her dusty blouse.

At that moment, an enemy soldier ran through the smoke in the main tunnel and turned to face them. Dominic could see that the WOB trooper was already pulling the trigger just as Baroness Singh stepped out in between the two of them. She took the full burst into her upper body and collapsed just as Dominic returned fire, tearing away the trooper's lower jaw and throat. As he slung the rifle over his shoulder and got down on his knees to see if she was still alive, he noticed that she was breathing in shallow gasps as the blood began to pool on her chest.

"I'm so sorry." Dominic said as he cradled her head in his arms. He wanted to cry but no tears came out of his tired eyes.

"F-feel… cold." She whispered back to him as blood oozed from her lips.

He could see that she was terribly wounded and in horrific pain and yet a part of her clung to life and would just not let go. The seconds stretched on like an eternity as she shuddered with gasping breaths and the blood looked like buckets of black ink in the twilit recesses of the tunnel. It was then that he realized that he had to do a terrible thing.

Dominic took out an automatic pistol from his coat pocket and aimed it at her temple. "Forgive me." He said softly, hoping that she would not hear it because of the nearby gunfire and explosions.

As soon as he pulled the trigger a short spurt of black liquid hit him squarely in the face and stung his eyes. He tried to wipe it off but it only mixed with the dust that already clung to him, like a mark of Cain.

It was then he noticed that his hands were covered in her blood, a sticky and pungent liquid that just seem to cling to every part of him no matter how hard he tried to wipe it off. Dominic lowered her head back softly into the dusty ground and left her there, making a silent vow to himself that he would personally bury each and every one of them if he made it out alive. In the end, the burden would be his, and his alone.


	37. 35 Intruders In The Dust

_Acolyte_ Rogelio Chavez decided to sit out the dust storm beside the crevasse where he killed the enemy sniper. After a cursory examination of the body he noticed that it was a teenaged girl. Chavez had never experienced remorse before but now it started to hit him like a proverbial pile of bricks. A flood of memories began to assault his spirit as he remembered the faces of everyone he killed. Choking back tears, Chavez gently stroked the corpse's hair as he felt something hard in the inner pocket of her black jumpsuit. He reached in and took it out.

It was a small plastic holder full of pictures. Portraits of a family dressed in traditional Draconis Combine kimonos as well as cheering cadets from a graduation ceremony stared back at him. Chavez felt an emptiness inside as he gently put back the small snapshots into the slim box and stuck it back into the corpse's pocket. He always felt that it was easy to kill someone before, now it was different, no longer where they faceless targets but people, who lived, laughed and loved just as he did.

As the LOM sniper sat there while the sand swept winds howled around him, a monstrous shadow fell over the top of the crevasse, nearly obscuring his outside vision. As he looked up in complete surprise, a giant black metallic foot descended right on top of his position. Chavez let out a cry of shock as the crevasse collapsed around him.

_Adept_ Amon Goth brooded while sitting in the cockpit chair of his _Shootist_ BattleMech. The final operation to retrieve the datadisk was underway and he should have been content but he wasn't. It was as if something was missing. Goth had always believed he had it all but now he felt a kind of emptiness inside. Was it because he failed to decisively beat the Black Widow and left open the possibility that she was still alive? For the first time in his life, Goth felt the first stirrings of unfulfilled desire.

A loud beep from his Mech's comm. system snapped him back into reality. "Mech-One here." Goth answered.

"_Adept_ Goth," It was the pilot of Pinto Super Six-Two hovering above them. "The sandstorm seems to be dying down now but I still cannot raise HQ on my communications. All I'm getting is static."

"What about Super Six-Three, has she been able to contact Base Camp?"

"Negative, sir." The Pinto helicopter pilot said. "No one has been able to contact them for the past ten minutes."

"Okay," Goth said as he made a decision." I want you to return to base and do a visual flyby. How long will that take?"

"About twenty minutes flying time at full throttle, sir."

"Do it now," Goth said. "And check in with me every five minutes; if it is magnetic interference, we should be able to know its range"

"Yes, sir." Super Six-Two said as he began to tilt his control stick. "You sure you won't be needing me?"

"Other than casualty evacuation procedures, I think we have the situation under control." Goth said.

"Roger that, sir." Super Six-Two acknowledged as the Pinto helicopter flew off into the hazy distance.

The pilot of Super Six-Two banked left as he began to ease the Pinto towards the still dusty horizon. Just as he leveled the attack helicopter towards the rear lines, he immediately noticed something about the ground below. As his left hand slowed the Pinto's throttle he started to scan around.

His co-pilot then tapped his shoulder. "What's up?"

"I'm not sure," Super Six-Two's pilot said. "I thought I saw something down there."

"Must be the sandstorm," His co-pilot said. "May be playing tricks with yer eyes. What did you see anyway?"

"I really don't know, it looked like something dark and huge was moving on the ground but the visibility's crap so I'd like to come in low for a closer look."

"Up to you," Super Six-Two's co-pilot grinned, only his teeth stood out from the visored helmet. "You're gonna be gettin' flak from _Adept_ Goth for delaying our orders, not me."

"Better safe than sorry." The Pinto pilot said as he deftly controlled the helicopter until it hovered just above the billowing wisps of sand. Normally the base of the mountains would have been nothing but bare bedrock but the _Sherji_ threw up a two-story tall wall of swirling sand that obscured the 'Mechs and tanks of the assault team; everyone on the ground huddled close together because visibility was limited to point-blank range.

As both pilots continued to scan the khaki vortex below, the opaque mists underneath the hovering Pinto parted for a short second as a giant colossus rose up from the sandy ground; its massive black metallic form seemed to hover right beside the shocked crew of the helicopter, as if suspended there by the hand of God.

"Batter up!" Johnny Gundam shouted as he used the controls to heft the _Axman's_ massive hatchet and swing it towards the Pinto's fuselage. Gundam knew he had only a few seconds to do it correctly: although his BattleMech's jump jets weren't designed to hover, he had timed it just right as he sneaked in the sandstorm underneath the hovering chopper in order to fly up for a few seconds.

It was all that was needed. The reinforced, solid weapon of the _Axman_ was designed to tear into enemy 'Mechs as a melee attack and it smashed into the helicopter's side, destroying most of its armor and shredding the main rotor blade as well. As the _Axman's_ jump jets ignited once again in order to bring the 'Mech back in for a soft landing into the swirling dust clouds, Gundam could see the Pinto careening out of control and into the ground as well.

"What in Blake's Hell was that?" The pilot of Pinto Super Six-Three shouted into her microphone as she saw the whole thing happen from a distance. It was as if some demonic black Jinn rose out of the desert sands and took the other Pinto with it back to the abyss from whence it came.

"It was a BattleMech!" Her co-pilot exclaimed. "We gotta warn the others!"

"This is Pinto Super Six-Three, all units- we have enemy contacts! BattleMechs!" The Pinto pilot shouted as she switched to all frequencies while pulling back on her stick to make the helicopter climb higher. Whatever happened now, she didn't want the same fate of the identical Pinto helicopter to befall her. "Repeat, we have enemy BattleMechs at our rear lines!"

Christopher MacLaren chuckled under his breath as he followed the Pinto's signal above him. All he had to do was to keep her within a short distance as his 45-ton _Stealth Hawk's_ ECM systems kept jamming the helicopter's communications to the rest of her unit. The Pinto pilot didn't realize it but no one from her side would be able to heed her warnings until it was too late.

_Adept_ Amon Goth cursed as he kept fiddling with his _Shootist's_ communications array, it seemed that he was beginning to lose touch with the peripheral members of his unit as his 'Mech's sensors kept getting a lot of static. Goth figured that this particular dust storm was more powerful than any previous one for it seemed to interfere with his 'Mech's sensors more than ever before. Perhaps some sand particles might have seeped into the delicate radar systems, who knows?

"Sir, we may have a problem…" Goth's comm. link activated as he recognized the voice of the _Starslayer_ pilot to his extreme left flank. The sound was patchy and carried a lot of static but at least it was clear.

"Can barely hear you," Goth answered. "Say again, _Starslayer_. Repeat your message, over."

The voice came back even more faintly this time. "Sir… lost contact… with Pintos… last message… enemy…"

"What?" Goth shouted back into his neurohelmet's built-in microphone, hoping his loud voice could slash through the static interference. "Say again, cannot hear you!"

"Last… message… enemy…"

"Say again, _Starslayer_. Say again!" Goth kept shouting.

"Enemy… contact…"

Goth's eyes began to widen as the garbled message's impact struck him with full force. Almost immediately, his training and experience began to take over as he powered up his _Shootist's_ weapon systems. It wasn't the sandstorm that was interfering with his unit's communication links, there was something else and there was only one other conclusion. That was why they weren't able to contact Base Control; that was why he had trouble coordinating his troops. If only he hadn't been so over-confident, he might have spotted the signs sooner; now he hoped that it wasn't too late.

"ALL UNITS, TURN!" Goth screamed at the top of his lungs using the designated command frequency as he began to move his own 'Mech; he hoped that the others would have had enough sense to keep that line open. If he had tried the general frequencies, the enemy might realize that he knew about them, thereby ruining their chances for a surprise attack. Goth hoped to Blake's spirit that his unit would think like him. "ALL UNITS, ENEMY CONTACT AT THE REAR- TURN AND ENGAGE!"

Like their commander, the Blakist MechWarriors were an experienced bunch that had their trial by fire in many previous operations and so most of them had been tuning in to the scrambled command frequency and caught part of Goth's message. Their initial shock quickly turning into disciplined coordination, the remaining elite MechWarriors of the Light of Mankind quickly powered up their BattleMechs and began to turn towards the rear of their lines. The armored vehicles that flanked them however, were not so experienced and so therefore were still in the dark as explosions began to rattle around them.

As the stunned defenders turned around and began straightening their battle-line, eleven black metallic demons began to engage them.

"Widows, engage all enemy contacts," Lieutenant Lewis Sorenson said as he piloted his 75-ton _Dark Knight_ forward. "Remember, good guys wear black."

The Blakist pilot of the 80-ton _Spartan_ assault 'Mech spotted what looked like a modified, all-black _Phoenix Hawk_ in the murky distance as the waves of dust whirled around them. Licking his lips for what looked like an easy kill, he punched in full-throttle on his 'Mech to try and catch the enemy _Phoenix Hawk_ but his lighter adversary kept him at extreme visibility by dint of its speed, always backing up just when the _Spartan_ got to within optimum range with its PPC. As the Blakist MechWarrior pushed his _Spartan_ even faster, he realized that he had strayed too far from the defensive zones of his unit and so began to slowly retreat.

Cursing silently to himself, the _Spartan_ pilot had hoped to finally get a kill after being beaten twice by the Black Widow; he was a veteran MechWarrior and to have this humiliation done to him felt like a painful tear in his heart. As the faint form ahead of him seemed to materialize once again, he punched up the throttle and reversed his heading, moving forward once again and hoping to catch that elusive _Phoenix Hawk_ once and for all. A rush of dust obscured his front view ports for a few short seconds while as he confidently strode his _Spartan_ to within short range. Just as he began to target the enemy in front of him, his eyes opened wide in horror as he realized he was no longer facing a 45-ton _Phoenix Hawk_ but a massive cyclopean monster that seemed to have barreled claws instead of hands as it closed into him. Quickly switching from his PPC to his array of pulse lasers and streak short-range missiles, he realized that he wasted precious time. And it was about to cost him dearly.

"Suck on this." The Monk said as he triggered the dual ULTRA 200mm autocannons on the arms of his modified 100-ton _Royal King Crab_.

The ULTRA autocannons were improved versions of the standard autocannons and enabled the user to double his firing rate. At point-blank range, four 200mm armor-piercing shells slammed onto the _Spartan's_ torsos, literally shattering its front armor. The WOB pilot couldn't compensate as his war machine staggered and then fell onto the desert floor form the massive pounding it took. The Monk calmly waited until his autocannons cycled back to their "ready-fire" mode and fired another massive volley into the lightly armored back of the stricken enemy 'Mech for good measure, then fired a medium-range laser for the coup de grace. This time, there was no chance the _Spartan_ could be repaired after the battle, as it was now nothing more than a pile of smoldering metal.

"By Blake's Will, destroy them!" Amon Goth shouted to his unit as his _Shootist_ fired its extended-range large laser at what looked like a _Black Knight_ that just appeared at his extreme left flank. His targeting sensors could not get a proper lock and his laser went wide, it looked like his opponent was using some sort of stealth system that threw off his accuracy. Goth drove his _Shootist_ forward to get closer, correctly surmising that he would get a better shot at shorter ranges plus he could bring his 'Mech's massive 200mm ULTRA autocannon to bear as well.

As his adrenaline pumped at full force, making tingling sensations all over his hyper-intensive body, Chris MacLaren felt that he had to get into the action. Forgoing his orders, he quickly punched up the throttle of his _Stealth Hawk_ to maximum and started driving for the enemy lines. As an enemy _Starslayer_ came into view, MacLaren fired his extended-ranged large laser at it, melting some armor off the enemy 'Mech's left arm. But instead of moving closer to engage him, the opposing 50-ton _Starslayer_ fell back, as if seemingly retreating while it fired its two large lasers in return, scoring a glancing blow to MacLaren's 'Mech, damaging it slightly.

"I'll get you for that!" MacLaren cursed as he kept after the _Starslayer_. Just as it looked like the _Starslayer_ was finally cornered, the enemy 'Mech instantly pivoted and moved sideways, revealing a 60-ton Po Heavy Tank where its previous position was. MacLaren gasped as the tank's main gun fired a 120mm shell that smashed into his BattleMech's right leg, nearly punching a hole in it. The WOB _Starslayer_ added to his dilemma as it fired a volley of lasers at him from medium range, smashing through the remaining armor on his _Stealth Hawk's_ leg as he desperately kept his 'Mech from toppling over.

Turning off the screeching alarms in his 'Mech's cockpit, MacLaren tried desperately to move his 'Mech backwards for a retreat but its right leg actuators were malfunctioning as the sand seeped in to its exposed myomer bundles as well as the damage from the concentrated enemy attack. "Guys, I need help!" MacLaren screamed as he noticed both the Po tank and the _Starslayer_ closing in for the kill.

Just as the Po traversed its gun turret to place a shot at MacLaren's 'Mech, Johnny Gundam's _Axman_ suddenly landed right beside it after a jump. The _Axman_ immediately swung its hatchet, cleaving the Po's tank gun barrel in half. The _Starslayer_ instantly reacted by firing a few laser shots and a small barrage of short-ranged missiles at Gundam's 'Mech but the damage was superficial. MacLaren did what he could, firing his extended-range large laser and hitting the _Starslayer_ but inflicting only light damage. Realizing that the skirmish was lost the enemy WOB 'Mech retreated sideways, hoping to catch Gundam's _Axman_ with its lasers until a massive Thunderbolt missile fired from the _Axman's_ shoulder-launcher and decapitated the _Starslayer_, sending the once-tenacious enemy 'Mech crashing down onto the swirling sands.

"Thanks." Chris MacLaren said breathlessly. He had dodged a bullet and he knew it.

"Even if you don't wanna keep to the plan, kid," Gundam's voice joked over the comm. link as his _Axman_ started dismantling the now hapless Po tank. "Just stay behind me."

"Roger, wilco." MacLaren smiled as he was finally able to get his stricken 'Mech underway.

Amon Goth couldn't believe it. His unit was taking losses as the all-black enemy 'Mechs kept popping in and out of the sandstorm like dust devils. As the veteran WOB MechWarrior kept pivoting his _Shootist_ to face the ever-elusive _Black Knight_, his laser shots kept missing. "Stand and fight, damn you!" Goth screamed at his open communications channels, hoping to goad the enemy BattleMech into a close-in battle but the _Knight_ kept evading by constantly keeping at long ranges and then disappearing back into the opaque sandy mists once again.

"You coward! By Blake's wrath I will destroy you all!" Goth kept shouting. Just as he pivoted his heavy 'Mech once more to his right, his _Shootist_ staggered and nearly fell backwards as its left arm was instantly torn off when it was hit by no less than three man-made lightning bolts. Quickly deactivating the whining alarms in his cockpit, Goth shrugged off the pain from the neuro-feedback that was giving him a terrific headache as he tried desperately to face a new, unexpected threat to his left flank.

"I'm all over him." Pale Rider said calmly as he piloted his 70-ton modified _Nova Cat_ forward to face the stricken enemy _Shootist_ while waiting for his PPCs to cycle back their spent energy.

"He's all yours, Pale Rider." Sorenson chuckled as he changed direction with his _Dark Knight_ 'Mech to go support the others. The enemy was in good hands.

Goth wouldn't give up though; the Blakist MechWarrior was still willing to fight as he fired his extended-range large laser at the advancing _Nova Cat_, melting off some of his opponent's frontal armor but he realized that he wouldn't last long against the longer-ranged, Clan made weapons of the _Cat_ unless he could somehow get within range of his ULTRA autocannon, but the black enemy 'Mech simply used its jump jets as it disappeared from Goth's line of sight temporarily, only to reappear at an even longer range as it landed back on the ground.

"Calling the shots- PPC to left torso." Pale Rider continued his calm, methodical voice as another artificial lightning bolt erupted from the _Nova Cat's_ barreled arms and hit the left side of the _Shootist_.

Goth grunted as the 70-ton _Shootist_ absorbed the heavy blow but he knew that the 'Mech's armor would soon buckle if this kept on going. His autocannon was at extreme range and the odds weren't good but he had no choice; Goth toggled his trigger on the control stick as a double burst of 200mm shells fired from the _Shootist_ towards the _Nova Cat_.

Pale Rider kept his cool as a massive autocannon shell impacted his 'Mech's center torso. His opponent was good and this would be a tough fight; but then again, he had been in this situation many times before. "PPC to center." He said calmly as he fired a double PPC blast at the _Shootist_ that staggered it once again but failed to bring it down.

Goth knew he was in real trouble now as his 'Mech's frontal armor barely absorbed the dual blasts that impacted with pinpoint precision. The next attack would definitely breach his _Shootist's_ paper-thin protection. He was a dead man unless he could think of something fast. With a plan borne from desperation, he quickly revved up his Mech's throttle as the _Shootist_ began to sprint directly at the _Nova Cat_ in an all or nothing charge, hoping to grapple with it before the enemy 'Mech could cycle back the spent energy of its weapons.

Pale Rider instantly reacted as he stomped his feet on both foot pedals, igniting his 'Mech's jump jets. The _Nova Cat_ nearly cleared its previous position just as the _Shootist_ barreled into it, the WOB 'Mech's shoulders just slamming into the _Nova Cat's_ knees as Goth's Mech was able to tackle the leaping _Nova Cat's_ legs, throwing the direction of its jump jets into disarray. Pale Rider muttered an uncharacteristic curse as his 'Mech's gyros overcompensated, trying to keep the jumping 'Mech vertical but to no avail; the _Nova Cat_ slammed head first into the desert sands as the _Shootist_ began to turn in its direction.

"You cannot defeat the servant of Blake!" Amon Goth exulted as he turned his 'Mech to face the prostrate _Nova Cat_ lying on the ground and began to target the enemy BattleMech's exposed rear. "Now you will suffer the fate of every infidel that tries to defy us, in hell!" He shouted as he began to toggle his weapon triggers.

The enemy's words were enough to make Pale Rider recover from his semi-unconscious state as he groggily realized the dire predicament that he was in. As he saw on his rear view screen that the _Shootist_ was closing in for the kill, he tried a last, desperate maneuver as he willed his 'Mech's legs to get on a kneeling position while activating his jump jets once again. The _Nova Cat's_ jump rockets instantly ignited, sending a gigantic cloud of dun-colored sand at the Shootist just as his enemy triggered his autocannon. The _Nova Cat_ slid forward several dozen meters just as the _Shootist's_ autocannon shells impacted the area on where it should have been.

"No!" Goth cursed as he fired his remaining lasers at the rising _Nova Cat_, melting off some of the enemy's side armor as its torsos pivoted back to face him.

"Final shot- center." Pale Rider replied calmly as a trio of electromagnetic bolts that carried enough power to light up several large cities, impacted on the _Shootist's_ center torso and cored it. The WOB 'Mech instantly fell on its knees and finally toppled backwards as its reactor core melted.


	38. 36 Firepower

Her seeming confidence had now turned to blind panic as the pilot of Pinto Super Six-Three kept the throttle to maximum while the helicopter speeded towards the area where the WOB base camp was located. Only minutes ago the pilot had felt a certain quiet satisfaction as the final assault on the beleaguered delegates was underway so that they could all go home at last; now that feeling of elation became one of stunned despair as the tables had seemingly turned against them.

"Why are we abandoning our positions?" Her co-pilot shouted as the constant vibrations of the helicopter made whispering impossible.

"Cuz we can't stand and fight, that's why!" The pilot of Super Six-Three said. "We can't take on those 'Mechs. Let's get to base camp and try to warn them." She didn't add that it was possible that the enemy might have already attacked and occupied their grounded DropShips.

"I'm not getting any static anymore," Her co-pilot said as he toggled the helicopter's communications link. "But I still can't get any contact from our base."

"Keep trying, dammit!"

As the last remaining Pinto helicopter cleared the mountain range and flew out into the open desert, it suddenly stopped and hovered in mid-air, as both pilots looked out into the afternoon horizon in the general direction of their grounded DropShips. A gargantuan mushroom cloud, several hundred feet tall in the air, was slowly descending back to the desert ground from which it came. Both pilots said nothing as they continued to stare out in stunned silence.

_Sang-wei_ Chang Pao began to push forward on his control stick as his aerospace fighter started to dive at the hovering Pinto helicopter several thousand feet below him. His _Thrush_ was actually lighter than the more heavily armed Pinto and although he had the advantage of speed, the Pinto had long-range missiles and a battery of medium-range lasers on its nose turret that could present quite a bit of a problem if he chose to fight it using conventional tactics. But being a Capellan Death Commando, he was trained to use irregular procedures and since he had the brief advantage of surprise, he might as well use it.

Although it seemed like hours, it took only a few seconds for the pilot of Pinto Super Six-Three to recover from her initial shock. It was clear that their base was gone, completely flattened by the all too obvious nuclear blast. What was also clear was that it couldn't have been an accidental detonation by one of her comrades but rather a deliberate attack by the same intruders that were assaulting their forward positions. But now they had no base of operations as well as no reinforcements. What were they to do now? "Switch frequencies on our comm. link. See if we could try and get contact with the _Zarathustra_." She said wearily to her co-pilot.

Having completed the dive, the dark-green _Thrush_ was only a few hundred feet above and directly behind the Blakist attack helicopter. As the rear of the Pinto loomed closer, Chang smiled as he banked his fighter's control stick slightly to the right, making the _Thrush_ do a slight roll as its circular starboard wing was now facing the ground below while the port wing faced the desert sky above. Now that his position was set, Chang punched up the throttle to enable the afterburners.

One of the crewmen who sat in the fuselage of the Pinto wondered why the helicopter just stopped and hovered in midair for so long. As he got up, unhooked his safety harness and started walking towards the cockpit door to get an answer from the pilots, he noticed something looming at the back of the helicopter. His curiosity piqued, the Pinto crewman slid open the helicopter's side door and looked out towards the rear.

The Pinto crewman had glanced out just at the right moment as the incoming _Thrush_ had positioned its wings like a vertical axe blade as it slashed through the air and passed just above the helicopter's fuselage, missing the crew compartment but cutting the Pinto's main rotor blades using its starboard wing.

Deprived of its lift, the Pinto dropped like a rock as it crashed and exploded onto the desert sands below while the _Thrush_ aerospace fighter leveled off and began to climb towards the heavens once more, as there were no more challengers over its territory.

As the battle between the metal-clad titans continued on the ground, it was obvious that the Black Widows had now gained the upper hand. Although the Blakist MechWarriors were veteran pilots of the Light of Mankind, they were completely surprised by the sudden attack and were now fighting without any coordination as they fought in small, disorganized groups while the Widows were pressing their advantage to the utmost. But even when their cause seemed lost, the Blakists continued to fight when a less experienced unit would have surrendered, as they placed their trust in their deadly skills and battle-hardened experience. The Light of Mankind was an elite unit- but so were the Black Widows.

"Whooee! This is Wolf Spider Two, engaging contact!" Stilicho Jones shouted in his BattleMech's comm. link as his 100-ton _Pillager_ opened fire at a retreating _Grand Crusader_ directly in front of him. The 80-ton _Grand Crusader_ had several batteries of long-ranged missiles and it was best to attack it at close range but even then, it still had a pair of large pulse lasers so one still had to be careful. As Stilicho closed into medium range, the _Grand Crusader_ suddenly pivoted sideways as an allied 80-ton _Legacy_ landed right beside it after engaging its jump jets. Stilicho's _Pillager_ shuddered as several volleys of missiles fired by the _Grand Crusader_ was backed up by a burst of 120mm autocannon shells from the _Legacy_ began impacting on his 'Mech's armor.

"Need backup! Hurry!" Stilicho screamed as his 'Mech took heavy damage but thankfully there wasn't any armor breach. But even then, he wouldn't last long against the two of them.

"Hold your horses." Sudden Smith quipped as he brought in his 95-ton _Nightstar_ to Stilicho's right flank and began to engage the pair of Blakist 'Mechs. Between the two of them, both were able to launch a withering volley of 120mm gauss shells that impacted against the enemy 'Mechs. But even then, the battle was far from decided as Stilicho reluctantly began to back up, his _Pillager_ was too heavily damaged due to the initial Blakist attack to engage in a slugging match with them.

The pair of Blakist assault 'Mechs kept their ground as the _Grand Crusader_ continued to pound away at Stilicho's retreating _Pillager_ with its missile batteries while the _Legacy_ continued to fend off Sudden Smith's _Nightstar_. Stilicho cursed and nearly lost control when a small missile volley penetrated his 'Mech's right torso and disabled one of his gauss cannons. His _Pillager's_ once formidable firepower was almost cut in half as he continued to fire, hoping he could score a lucky hit before he went down.

Without warning, a 120mm gauss slug screamed in at hypersonic speed from behind Stilicho's 'Mech as it impacted right at the cockpit of the _Grand Crusader_, blowing the Blakist BattleMech's head clean off. The headless, barrel-chested titan wobbled for a few seconds before finally toppling over, its arms still swaying as if possessed. The _Legacy_ instantly began to retreat as its flank was now fully exposed and Stilicho made the best of it, firing his remaining gauss cannon as well as his extended-range laser, ripping and melting off chunks of the enemy's armor as Sudden Smith also began to press his own attack. The pilot of the _Legacy_ finally had had enough as he activated his 'Mech's jump jets as it began to lift off from the desert floor, hoping to land in another part of the sandstorm so that it could evade its pursuers.

But the Blakist 'Mech didn't get that chance. Just as it rose up in the air, the _Legacy's_ vulnerable cockpit assembly almost disappeared as a laser beam struck it in the center area of its viewports. Although the 'Mech's head wasn't completely torn off, the pilot suffered a massive neural feedback as his cockpit smoldered around him and quickly lost consciousness. Deprived of its command interface, the pilotless _Legacy_ came crashing back down onto the desert floor as it began to be disemboweled by the victorious _Nightstar_ and the _Pillager_.

"Stilicho, don't press too hard. Next time, wait for more backup." Lieutenant Lewis Sorenson said as his _Dark Knight_ moved off and then disappeared back into the howling mists.

"Damn, just how does he do that?" Stilicho said as he checked out his _Pillager's_ damage control readouts.

"How does he do what?" Sudden Smith queried as he waited for his 'Mech's weapons to cycle back their spent energy.

"Make all those headshots," Stilicho said. "I swear, I never saw anyone make those kinda kills before; during our raid on Colmar, he made four of those types of kills- and against Clanners too! I know he has got one of them newfangled special targeting computers on his _Dark Knight_ but even with those, the chances of a headshot on a fast-moving 'Mech are slim, let alone a jumping one!"

"I guess this unit attracts all sorts of characters." Sudden Smith mumbled as he drove his _Nightstar_ on and disappeared into the swirling walls of airborne sand as well.

"What kind of an answer was that?" Stilicho asked rhetorically as he too pushed up his 'Mech's throttle and moved on.

"Casanova" Jimmy Clavell's _MadCat Mk II_ barely slowed its stride as it came up against a fleeing 75-ton _Perseus_. Clavell simply twisted his 'Mech's torsos so it faced the stricken Blakist BattleMech and activated all of his weapons at once. The combination of Clan-made missile batteries and dual gauss cannons made short work of the _Perseus_ as Clavell's alpha strike instantly cored its already battered torsos and it went down in a heap of twisted metal. Ignoring his 'Mech's heatsink overload warning, Clavell punched up his command uplink. "This is Wolf Spider One, what's the sitrep, over."

"Looking good," The Monk answered while moving his 100-ton _Royal King Crab_ to the outskirts of the sandstorm. "I confirm six enemy 'Mechs down and about three tanks taken care of as well. I got a link with the Capellan aerospace pilot and he reports taking out another chopper. Other than mopping up, looks like we got this in the bag."

Clavell wasn't too concerned about the enemy, he always knew they were going to win out in the end, but the main question was still out there. "What about the Captain? Where the hell is she? All this fighting will be for nothing if she's dead." He said.

"Chill out, Clavell." Sorenson said calmly as he too kept his eye on the virtual map in his 'Mech's cockpit. "I know how you feel; let's finish this up and then we go looking for her."

"You finish it. I'm gonna go look for her right now." Clavell said as he punched up his _MadCat Mk II's_ throttle to maximum. He didn't know her general direction, but he wasn't about to sit around and do nothing either.

"Hold your position, Clavell!" Sorenson ordered. "We still have some bad guys out there."

"Sir, I think I got a contact." Beatrix Banzai said as she kept peering into the sensor readouts of her _Stealth Hawk_. Although not designed to be a brawler like the others, the 45-ton _Stealth Hawk_ was equipped with advanced electronic stealth systems and had a very powerful active probe to differentiate between friend and foe alike. While its sister 'Mechs acted as the executioners, the _Stealth Hawk_ had the distinction of providing the electronic warfare support for the team. It was a lethal combination to anyone who opposed the Black Widows.

"What kind of contact?" The Monk asked.

"I think it's the Captain, sir." Beatrix said as she continuously adjusted her readings to try and get a better look. "I'm detecting a small, personal IFF transponder that's moving to the base of the mountains. It's keyed in to our code frequency and the Captain is the only one other than us who would know that. My guess is that she must have left her _Warhammer_ and is proceeding out on foot."

"You don't need to say that twice." Clavell said as he began to unstrap himself from his cockpit chair. Quickly deactivating his BattleMech's reactor, he checked the safeties on his dual Sternsnacht heavy pistols before opening the _MadCat Mk II's_ outer hatch and leapt out into the swirling dust storm.

"Clavell, goddamn it!" Sorenson protested as he saw the figure leap out of the now idle _MadCat Mk II_ and began to make its way towards the base of the mountains. It seemed that only Captain Kerensky could ever control this motley bunch; no matter how hard he tried, they just wouldn't listen to him. It was one of those things that he had to work on; otherwise the unit wouldn't function as a team without their commanding officer- and this happened to be that very situation.

"Hey, Lieutenant Clavell is going EVA again!" Johnny Gundam exclaimed as he too started to unstrap himself as his 'Mech began to deactivate its fusion powerplant after parking it right beside the _MadCat_. After the last strap was unbuckled, Gundam immediately took out a massive vibroaxe from the side of his pilot's chair and tested its built-in powerpack; the indicator read full charge.

"Johnny, Lieutenant Sorenson told us to stay in our 'Mechs." Stilicho Jones said as he drove his damaged _Pillager_ close to Gundam's _Axman_, hoping to dissuade his friend from doing something reckless.

"No worries buddy, you stay in your 'Mech and watch over mine. I'll back up Lieutenant Clavell and get the Captain back here pronto." With that, Gundam threw off his neurohelmet and popped open the outer hatch of his 'Mech as he followed Clavell into the sand swept unknown.

Stilicho sighed as he sat back in his pilot's chair. He was brave, but he wasn't foolhardy either. Let them do the running and gunning; if they got hurt, it sure wouldn't be his fault.


	39. 37 The Stand

When the gunfire, explosions and screaming were heard as soon as the first squad ventured into the cave tunnel, the other soldiers knew they had finally found the delegates. There would be more bloodshed, but the end was finally in sight.

"Second squad, get ready. No heavy weapons or grenade use anymore; we need that datadisk undamaged." Brandon St. Jamais ordered as he cocked the bolt of his 5.56mm assault rifle. Counting off his remaining troops, he could see that he had seven men with the second squad while the third had five men and two wounded soldiers from the initial battle at the cave entrance. "Third squad, stay with the wounded and prepare to advance inside as well when you get my signal."

An eerie, ear-piercing Samurai battle cry could be heard from the inside of the cave as more gunfire erupted within. It sounded like first squad had run into the main opposition.

"Second squad, follow me!" Brandon exhaled his inner tension away as he charged into the cave entrance; he was immediately followed in by a full squad of seven soldiers.

The howling, dust-strewn winds outside was instantly replaced by a twilit, smoke filled tunnel that resembled the bowels of hell as they ventured inside. Wails and moans could be heard as if they came from all directions, chilling even the most experienced WOB infantrymen to the bone. Everyone kept their weapons ready in different directions, as the cave's visibility was awfully poor, even with their nightvision goggles. One or two men tried to hug the sides of the tunnel but instantly fell back in along with the main group in the center of the corridor as they began to sense bullets ricocheting off the cave walls.

"Everyone, stay close." Brandon ordered as they advanced slowly in an almost crouching position. Almost immediately they came upon a number of wounded soldiers and defenders in the middle of a corridor. Brandon ordered the squad to set up a perimeter as the medic began to examine some of the ones still twitching. Although their armored vests and helmets protected their most vital body parts, quite a number of the wounded Blakist soldiers were hit in the vulnerable areas as their blood seeped out from severed leg arteries, eviscerated throats or they had taken shots to the face, leaving a bloody mess of flesh, bone, teeth and brain cartilage.

"Hey, look." A Blakist soldier remarked excitedly to his comrade standing beside him as he pointed his rifle over a still conscious member of the Star League delegation. The young woman was obviously wounded as a puddle of blood formed from where she was propped up on the wall, her bloody left arm hung limply by her side as she raised her right hand at the staring enemy soldier, as if to either call for help or just to meekly infer that she had given up. "This one ain't dead." The first soldier concluded.

The second WOB soldier casually went over to the wounded delegate, aimed his rifle at point-blank range and fired a short burst, cracking open the woman's skull with his 5.56mm APHE rounds, leaving only the lower jaw and a bloody imprint on the dust-colored cave wall where her head once rested at. "She's dead now." The second man said calmly as he turned around to check on the others.

Brandon knelt down beside a corpse of one of his men and examined the wounds carefully. It was apparent that some sort of slashing weapon tore right through the dead soldier's armored vest and shattered his ribcage before severing the arteries. As he looked around Brandon began to realize that there was a deadly swordsman out there. "Everyone, heads up!" He ordered.

"KIAI!" At that moment an ear-piercing scream seemingly erupted from all directions that momentarily startled everyone, allowing the assailant a few, precious seconds to close in.

As Brandon looked around, a lone figure seemed to materialize out of the smoke-filled cave tunnel and ran directly at him. The assailant was a stocky, bald-headed man in a bloody kimono and was wielding a shimmering vibrokatana in both hands. Brandon aimed his rifle just as the man swung the powered blade in a downward angle, cleaving the barrel of Brandon's assault rifle and connecting with his armored helmet, shattering it in two as Brandon fell on his back onto the cold, dusty ground. The vibrokatana only grazed his forehead but it did succeed in momentarily stunning him as he started to roll sideways, hoping to avoid a second, more lethal blow.

One of the Blakist infantrymen tried to shoot his laser rifle from his hip but missed the swordsman as the assailant then turned and slashed at him from a side angle, cutting into the soldier's left forearm as the Blakist's severed left hand fell to the floor. The wounded man fell on his knees screaming as the swordsman swung again, severing his head in one clean blow to the unprotected throat before proceeding to the next bunch of startled enemies.

The others however, were able to recover their composure as they knelt down to one knee, aimed their rifles and fired. 5.56mm bullets and laser bolts tore into the assailant but the man's indomitable force of will kept his momentum going as he slashed at them with one final effort using his one remaining arm, tearing out the throat of another soldier before a second volley nearly tore off his right arm as he finally dropped the vibrokatana. The swordsman was on his knees as small rivers of blood gushed from his innumerable wounds yet his face kept a stoic glare at his enemies as he neither uttered a moan of pain nor gestured that he was dying. One of the Blakist soldiers shouted a curse as all five of them fired their weapons until their magazines and powerpacks were empty. By then, the body of Count Seiji Oshiwara was practically torn apart.

Brandon got on his knees and shook his head as it felt like it had just exploded. The vibrokatana did not pierce the skin on his forehead but the shock of the attack was still making him dizzy. "Is everybody okay?" He said hoarsely.

He could see that the squad's medic was applying some medical attention on a seriously wounded man from the first squad while one of the other five survivors pointed to another man down. This wasn't good, Brandon thought as he keyed in his throat communicator. "Third squad, move in!" He ordered. "Repeat, third squad, move in."

Although Count Oshiwara had finally died, the surviving squad members were still milling about after the sudden, brutal attack that they didn't notice a high-explosive grenade landing near them and exploded. While their armored vests absorbed most of the damage, their arms and legs were unprotected as the flying shrapnel tore into their extremities. Two soldiers immediately went down from mortal wounds, one died instantly as the shrapnel passed through the back of his head because he had no helmet on while the second soldier's jugulars were torn open as she clutched at her throat, writhing and bleeding profusely on the desert floor as she started her death throes. The squad's medic thought he only sustained a slight shrapnel wound to his left leg until he realized with alarm that the femoral artery was indeed severed as his strength slowly started to seep away from him; he screamed for help while he fumbled with a knife, hoping to open up his own leg and clamp shut his torn artery before death could overtake him. Not knowing where the grenade came from, the two remaining WOB squad members fired their rifles in all directions, hoping to hit something.

As soon as he heard the thrown grenade's detonation, Dominic Durant immediately started running towards the enemy while cocking the bolt in his assault rifle. Dominic knew that he needed to take a chance and finish the surviving members of that attack before the next enemy wave could reinforce them. As he ran down the smoky tunnel, he had hoped that some of the others had survived; in all the confusion, he had been separated from them but he kept his hopes up that at least a few were alive anyway.

Whatever was left of Dominic's luck still held as he ran out into the main cave tunnel and saw two enemy soldiers at his right flank, half-kneeling and firing their weapons in the opposite direction. With a cry borne of desperation, Dominic fired the weapon from his hip as he advanced to within hand-to-hand combat range. His initial burst tore into the side of the first enemy soldier, hitting the Blakist on his arms and the side of his face. As the first enemy soldier slumped forward, the second one noticed what had happened and turned to face him just as Dominic squeezed the trigger of his assault rifle to spray a burst into the enemy soldier's face at point-blank range.

A loud click could be heard across the cave, as Dominic's assault rifle was now empty.

Without hesitating, Dominic threw the now empty weapon at the enemy soldier who panicked and used his own rifle to deflect the thrown weapon. Dominic kept running as he tackled the Blakist soldier and both landed in a heap on the dusty cave floor. As both men started to struggle, Dominic's hands were already free and so he was able to quickly draw a knife from his leg sheath and plunged it into the surprised soldier's throat. Once more, black oozing liquid stained Dominic's hands as he roared like a wild animal, his adrenaline rush adding to his desperate rage. As the soldier startled to gurgle and die, Dominic saw another Blakist crawling on the ground towards a rifle; with a menacing beast lurking in his heart, Dominic got up and started running towards his next adversary.

Just as Brandon recovered his senses, he immediately saw two people thrashing on the ground in front of him. As he crawled towards a laser rifle lying on the dusty floor, he saw the other man finish off one of his squad members and started running towards him. Brandon soon remembered that he still had his auto-pistol and started to draw it out from his hip holster just as the assailant closed in. Remembering his martial arts training, Brandon got on his back while trying to level the pistol as the scruffy, blood-splattered man tried to slash at him with a knife, it was then that he noticed who the assailant was.

"Durant!" Brandon St. Jamais snarled as he kicked the knife away from Dominic's hand. Within a split second he quickly aimed the pistol at Dominic's hip and fired.

But Dominic was able to twist away in time as the bullet only grazed his side. The Star League Intelligence officer was beyond pain or feelings as he jumped right on top of Brandon St. Jamais and tried grabbing the other man's pistol with both hands. The two men then began a violent struggle on the ground, twisting and grappling at each other as Brandon desperately tried to bring the pistol to bear onto the other man's side while Dominic was also doing his best to try and take the pistol away from him.

As the two men wrestled on the ground, the WOB medic finally lost consciousness as he failed to clamp his severed femoral artery in time and a pungent puddle of blood began to seep around his prostate form. Just as a quiet stillness began to permeate the cavern once more, a loud bang erupted from where the two enemy commanders had been struggling.

Brandon St. Jamais got up from the dusty cave floor as the pistol remained in his hand, staring blankly at the crimson stain on his armored vest for a few seconds. Dominic Durant rolled over on his back and moaned as he clutched at his stomach. As Brandon knelt down and started to search him, Dominic gasped and made an effort to reach for his knife on the ground, only to have his groping hand pinned to the ground by Brandon's left boot, as the Blakist commander fired another shot into his ribcage to finish him off. As Dominic's life finally began to give way he slumped back onto the ground like a dying animal, he had done his best but it just wasn't good enough.

As Brandon rummaged through the other man's pockets, he found an old trinket of an ancient idol as well as some personal pictures but still no datadisk. After patting Dominic down in case he was hiding something beneath his clothing, Brandon's determination gave way to his rage as he grabbed Dominic and pulled him up by his collar right near his own face. "Where in Blake's hell is the datadisk? DAMN YOU!"

"Long live… the… Star League." Dominic Durant's last words were a gurgle as he spat a dollop of blood at Brandon's face. Wiping the sticky crimson fluid from his cheek, Brandon pushed Dominic's body back onto the ground and fired several more shots into him.

So he wasn't carrying the datadisk, Brandon thought to himself as he stood up, livid with rage. They must have stashed it away somewhere. Perhaps somewhere in these caves or that stupid city, he thought as all the frustrations began to accumulate at the back of his mind and wouldn't let go this time. As a sense of resignation within him was going full force, Brandon opened up his throat mike. "Third squad! Where the hell are you?" He shouted in the comm. link.

A few minutes passed as Brandon realized there was no answer.

"THIRD SQUAD," Brandon was totally incensed now, he would extract a very harsh punishment on his own men for messing around with him. "ANSWER ME!"

"Sorry, there is no one to answer your call." A calm, female voice from behind almost made him drop his pistol.

"Who?" Brandon said as he began to pivot to face the person talking to him but he sensed a weapon aimed at his direction and so he kept the pistol near his stomach, hoping that whoever it was didn't notice it.

"Your third squad," Natasha Kerensky stood behind him, aiming a laser rifle at the back of his head. "Is all dead. I took care of them on my way here."

"You took them all out? Impossible." Brandon was aghast as he turned to face her while keeping the pistol behind him. There were two slightly wounded soldiers in that squad in addition to five fully armed elite shock troopers; could this woman actually be the real Black Widow reborn?

"They were looking the other way; that made it easy. Now let me see your hands." Natasha said. Brandon noticed that she wasn't looking exactly pristine either: dried blood on her mouth, dusty, torn, rumpled jumpsuit, and what looked like massive bruises on her arms and shoulders. He had a very slim chance, but he wasn't going to be taken alive.

"We have other troops down there you know," Brandon did not move as he tried to stall for time. "Surely you don't think you can get away?"

"I could always use you as a hostage," Natasha said. "Put up your hands, now!"

Brandon smiled as he started to raise his empty hands in the air. The pistol was safely tucked away in a vest pocket behind his hip; all he needed now was a distraction. "Okay, you win. But tell me, what happened to that damned datadisk anyway? I just want to know because it's that important to me."

Natasha didn't return his smile. "I have it. It was in the pocket of my ejector seat but your commandos failed to open it so I picked it up after I dealt with them."

"How intelligent of you," Brandon kept smiling. "You don't suppose we could make a bargain? Your life and freedom from this desert hellhole in exchange for the datadisk? I give you my word."

"No deal." Natasha said calmly as she readied the rifle. Brandon's smile quickly disappeared.

"Captain Kerensky! You in here?" Johnny Gundam shouted as he ran into the cave tunnel, vibroaxe at the ready. Momentarily startled by his address of her name, Natasha turned her head.

Now, Brandon thought as he reached back and pulled out his pistol and aimed it at Natasha while pulling the trigger. The pistol's shot reverberated around the cave walls.

The bullet whizzed by Natasha's ear as she pivoted back to face Brandon with uncanny speed and fired her laser rifle before he could get another shot off. The red laser bolt melted through Brandon's skull and easily cored his cerebral cortex as the temperatures inside his head went past boiling point in a matter of milliseconds. The Blakist fell on his knees and then slumped face first into the ground, his body still twitching as its neuromuscular functions began to die down. Brandon's last thoughts were of astonishment as to how somebody could be so fast.

"Wow, that was quick." Gundam quipped as he looked around. He was disappointed that he never got to use his vibroaxe.

"Captain! Good thing we found you!" Jimmy Clavell also came into the cave tunnel as he scanned the area with his dual Sternsnacht pistols on the ready. "All enemy forces have been neutralized and we are now ready for extraction."

"You're late." Natasha said brusquely without even turning around as she safetied her weapon.

"Well excuse me," Clavell answered sarcastically. "Anyone else for extraction, Captain?"

"Just me." Natasha said softly.

"Uh, Captain, we gotta tell ya," Gundam said sheepishly. "It was the Cappies that brought us here and they say that if we don't have the datadisk…"

"I have it." Natasha turned and finally faced them as she patted the inner pocket of her dusty jumpsuit. "Get everybody to the extraction point, I'll be with you shortly."

"Affirmative, Captain." Clavell said as he then turned around and headed back towards the cave lip. Gundam lingered, as if hoping to come up with a funny thing to say but after seeing all the carnage, then decided to shut up and followed Clavell to the outside.

Natasha stood around next to Dominic's body for a few long minutes before kneeling down beside him and placing the talisman of Ishtar around his neck. She then folded his arms to his sides and closed the still open eyelids. The Black Widow sighed and stroked his light brown hair until she could stand it no longer, then she got up, took out the blackened, eight-pointed Star League patch from her jumpsuit and pinned it on his dusty uniform.

As the Black Widow walked out of the cave lip and into the dying sandstorm, she didn't look back.


	40. 38 Full Circle

The other Black Widows didn't say anything to Natasha as she walked up the landing ramp of the _Union_ class DropShip. Having already tied down the unit's BattleMechs into their safety hangars, the crew made immediate preparations for liftoff. The Black Widow took one last look at the barren desert landscape before signaling the crew chief to close the ramp. She then proceeded to her quarters with nary an acknowledgement to anyone.

Lieutenant Lewis Sorenson wanted to have a chat with her but decided against it. He knew that Natasha had been through a lot and it would not have been the appropriate time for it so he instead proceeded to the DropShip's cargo hold where some of the unit was going through an impromptu debriefing.

As Sorenson strode inside, the Monk handed him a noteputer printout. "What's this?" The Black Widow's executive officer said as he started reading it.

"Just a brief summary of our battle reports." The Monk said. "Other than Clavell's EVA, I think we did well and stayed disciplined throughout the entire battle, yes?"

"Yeah, you're right." Sorenson kept scanning the report. "I wouldn't want to bother the Captain just now, she isn't in a talkative mood."

"I've noticed. Makes me wonder though." The Monk sighed. "We were able to salvage her 'Mech and from what I read in the _Warhammer's_ black box, she was up against some mighty tough odds, yet she survived."

"Yep, I can see that. What makes me wonder is how a group of mostly inexperienced and under-equipped delegation members were able to hold off and in some cases cause a high amount of casualties to an experienced WOB level-three unit. In most circumstances, their morale would have broke and they would have just surrendered. I've always pictured the Blakists as the fanatical ones, but those civilians put them to shame."

"Who knows?" The Monk himself was trying very hard to understand it. As a professional soldier, he made it a habit to analyze past engagements in order to better his understanding of the age-old craft of war. "Perhaps they believed in peace so much that every one of them was more than willing to sacrifice their own lives to further it. War makes strange bedfellows; even a lowly office clerk can turn into a raging animal who is more than willing to defend her young to the point of being a fanatic. You can't really tell who a true warrior is until you're actually fighting. It's a paradox and I can't really explain it any further than that. Unless something even stranger happens, I'd count this as a prefect example of the shifting fortunes of war."

"Good point," said Sorenson. "I'll conclude that it was a combination of excellent leadership, good use of terrain and innovative defensive tactics."

"I'll concur with that assessment," The Monk said. "And don't forget the choice of cause."

"That too." Sorenson concluded as he started to head back out. The DropShip would be lifting off shortly and he needed to be strapped in.

As Johnny Gundam and Stilicho Jones were strapping themselves in their stateroom, they continued to argue about their wager.

"I won, pal. You owe me!" Gundam exclaimed.

"No you didn't! The chopper didn't count. We never agreed that the bet covers aircraft. That makes it a grand total of one hundred five tons for you and one hundred fifteen for me! I won." Stilicho protested.

"You're really full of it, you know that?"

"I'm not, you are!"

As the two kept going at it, Jimmy Clavell sneaked back into his own private stateroom, took out his stash of spirits and started to mix himself a PPC cocktail. He preferred the Davion variant: two shots of bourbon with the signature four shots of grain alcohol but since he didn't have the bourbon, he decided on downing the moonshine straight. As the DropShip's engines began to rumble, he was already dozing off, spilling onto the metal floor what was left in the opened bottle that was dangling in his hand.

When Natasha entered her stateroom, she failed to turn the lights on and instead, just sat down on her narrow bed and stared out into the all-encompassing darkness. The intense vibrations along the walls that indicated the DropShip's successful liftoff didn't change her demeanor nor did it alter her mood as she continued to stare out into the void.

But even the black abyss itself was not even empty for it was all filled with the faces of the dead. Natasha didn't even know them all and was partly glad for there was no longer any room in her sorrows for it but that made her hate herself all the more. Dominic was gone and she would have to live with that; of all of them his death was the hardest to take and she felt all the more guilty because of it that just added to her misery. She still couldn't believe that she was the sole survivor.

Then again, it was always like this. They were all professionals, whether they were diplomats, secretaries, scientists, pacifists or warriors, all had stared death in the face and only one lived to tell the tale. She would be the sole keeper of their moments and would carry those thoughts to her grave. The SLDF soldiers starting with Sergeant Pryce made the ultimate sacrifice in order to give them time and they made the most of it. The crews of both DropShips also contributed; Captain De Llandes got the delegation safely to the desert moon while a short, hardworking crewman named Eladio enabled Natasha to deploy two BattleMechs on the ground, enabling the hostages to strike back at their tormentors that gave them crucial time to gain some distance from the Blakists. Even the younger delegate members like John Palatine displayed a dauntless tenacity that inspired the older, more timid ones. With the determined leadership of Dominic Durant and Carlos Sanz, the group of delegates stumbled onto an ancient city that had an uncanny resemblance to ancient Babylon and then allied themselves with an archaeological expedition to fight a pitched battle against their WOB adversaries. No one ever questioned their leadership and everyone trusted and obeyed till their last breath. Did they all die for the sake of a datadisk? Would their memories be tarnished if she dishonored their legacy? Could she have the will to keep on living knowing the unfathomable sacrifices they all made for her to deliver the prophetic message to the Star League?

The never-ending questions haunted her in the darkness. When she couldn't take it any longer, Natasha buried her tired face in her numb hands and wept.

As the DropShip flew out into orbit, the howling winds had finally died down on the moons surface as the afternoon sun began to set on the horizon. The first thoughts of _Acolyte_ Rogelio Chavez when the massive 'Mech footpad drove down into the crevasse where he had lain in was that he would be buried alive and that to him would be a horrible way to die. But after much determination, he was able to get his elbow free and continued to call for help using his throat microphone but all he got back was static. After the explosions around him had finally died down, he noticed that his earpiece receiver had begun to function again, indicating that the enemy was using some sort of ECM counter measures when they attacked. In what seemed like hours, Chavez kept calling for help until finally he could hear something above him as hands started to dig him out of his rocky grave.

After a few tense minutes, Chavez was pulled free by a pair of massive arms. As he looked back at the bald, tattooed face of his rescuer while dusting himself off, he realized who it was. "Thank you, _Adept_ Goth. May the Peace of Blake be with you."

Amon Goth grunted in acknowledgement. He had been able to eject just in time as his BattleMech's reactor went into a core meltdown as he fought those black-painted 'Mechs. It was apparent that the entire unit had succumbed to the attackers, as he could now see what remained of a mushroom cloud in the distance, he could see that the base camp was gone too. It was now highly probable that the enemy took wiped out their aerospace assets as well, leaving them marooned on the desert moon. "Are you hurt?" He said.

"No, _Adept_. Just my pride." Despite what had happened, the LOM sniper kept his cool. "Are there any other survivors?"

"Down there." Goth pointed towards the foot of the mountain. "A few MechWarriors managed to eject from their stricken machines and a few of our tech crews were in the ancient city when they attacked the base camp with nukes."

Chavez could see _Adept_ Achmed Faud climbing his way up towards them, daintily picking his way among the jagged rocks until he finally reached the bottom of the boulder where they were standing on. "_Adept_ Goth, I count three MechWarriors, four infantrymen, three vehicle crews and eleven technicians still alive, sir." The senior tech said. "Most of us were doing some sweeps in the city when the base camp was destroyed. Some are wounded, but none too seriously."

"Understood," said Goth. "We will be declared overdue in another few weeks time, I would imagine. Survival would be our first priority. What is our food and water situation?"

"We found a supply cache that the archaeologists were using in the city, sir." Faud made a slight smile. "We should be able to last a few years with those."

Chavez stared out into the distance. The sun was now halfway below the horizon and the dust storms had ceased. There seemed to be a stillness that settled unto the moon once more, as if the eternal cycle that was once interrupted by men from other worlds had begun to start again. He could also see the broken temples and blasted walls of the ancient city several kilometers away. Now that they had time, perhaps they might very well explore the ruins of the city in order to unearth its secrets? Perhaps they might even find new wonders, new vistas. That would depend on their new commander, of course.

Goth saw the look on Chavez's face and smiled, for the first time in years. "I know what you're thinking. I too am curious as to the mystery surrounding that place. Yes, we might as well make some time to explore that strange city." He said.

"Blessed be to Blake." Chavez grinned as he started to make his way down the boulder. Achmed Faud patted the LOM sniper's shoulder and both started towards the other survivors.

Goth remained standing on top of the sandy boulder as he removed his cooling vest and let it fall to the ground. They would bide their time and ration the food and water while keeping themselves busy. Soon the WOB rescue unit would arrive and he would have to explain to the _Precentor Martial_ about the death of his younger brother. And if his superior would be merciful enough, he would task Goth himself to bring him back all the heads of the Black Widows on a silver platter. How he would love to have his revenge, especially against the Black Widow herself. He beat her once and would beat her again. He was having a bad day at the moment but the thoughts of future vengeance made it somewhat tolerable.

But in the meantime, the ancient and mysterious city beckoned. He had once considered becoming an archaeologist but decided he could serve Blake better as a warrior. Goth sighed and started down towards the base of the mountains. They were right, he might as well keep busy.


	41. Epilogue: The Ruins

EPILOGUE:

_And Babylon, the glory of kingdoms,_

_the beauty of the Chaldees' excellency,_

_shall be as when God overthrew Sodom and Gomorrah._

_It shall never be inhabited,_

_neither shall it be dwelt in from generation to generation:_

_neither shall the Arabian pitch tent there;_

_neither shall the shepherds make their fold there._

_But wild beasts of the desert shall lie there;_

_and their houses shall be full of doleful creatures;_

_and owls shall dwell there,_

_and satyrs shall dance there._

_And the wild beasts of the islands shall cry in their desolate houses,_

_and dragons in their pleasant palaces:_

_and her time is near to come,_

_and her days shall not be prolonged._

-Isiah 13:19-25

The Ruins

As Natasha Kerensky started to unstrap herself from her safety chair, a loud chime indicating an incoming message reverberated inside the entire DropShip's bridge. The ship's captain read it carefully and then handed the message over to her. With nary an acknowledgement, Natasha skimmed through it and then handed the paper back to the DropShip commander and walked out of the bridge towards the cargo bay.

The _Union_ class DropShip's engines had barely gone idle when the massive cargo ramp of the ship already began to open while the Monk, Jimmy Clavell and Lewis Sorenson all waited inside. Just as the ramp fully deployed on the ground, Natasha walked into the hold from a nearby corridor. They could clearly see a large, ornate estate less than a kilometer away while an entire platoon of black-clad Capellan soldiers stood in loose formation, facing the opened cargo bay with weapons at the ready.

"I freakin' knew it!" Clavell raged. "I knew those damned Cappies were up to something!"

"What are you talking about?" Natasha said. Although the command circuit with its string of JumpShips only took a few hours for them to reach planetfall, the Black Widow was able to clean herself up. While still sporting a few bruises, Natasha was as beautiful as ever.

"The Capellans assured us that once we got you oughta there, we would head over to Tharkad and deliver the delegates there." The Monk sighed. "Now, it seems they have reneged that promise."

"Captain," Lewis Sorenson whispered to Natasha. "I have the other Widows in their 'Mechs, ready to roll. We can do a rapid sweep and take Sun-Tzu Liao hostage. All you have to do is give the signal."

"The signal is stand down," Natasha said softly. "Everyone stay here. When I get back, we're leaving. Tell the ship's captain to prepare for embarkation to Outreach, we have to pick up Duncan."

"What?" Clavell protested. "After all you've been through? They're responsible for the death of all those delegates, including Major Durant! You're gonna let that bastard Sun-Tzu get away with this?"

A flash of anger manifested itself on her steely eyes as the three men were suddenly taken aback. "Do as you're told!" the Black Widow hissed. All three of them were hardened killers, but they remained silent as she turned and walked down the ramp.

As Natasha made it to the ground, she instantly saw Peter Coetzee being flanked by a team of Capellan Death Commandos. The concrete airstrip was alive with technicians as well as massive electronic cables that snaked across the concrete tarmac that led to an erected stage on the far side of the runway. Flanking the stage were a number of mobile luxury trailers and a large green prefabricated tent. She could notice that in addition to the uniformed Capellan techs, there were white-robed ComStar personnel working on several mobile HPG projector units that seemed to face the stage's podium. It seemed that everyone was in a hurry.

"Welcome to the planet Liao, Captain Kerensky." Peter Coetzee smiled as he straightened his uniform to make the trim more pronounced than ever. "This recently recaptured world not only serves as the hereditary birthplace of the great Liao family, but also accommodates our dear Chancellor's newest summer palace."

"I can see that with your _Xin Sheng_, you guys went on a massive building spree. You may have captured back a few worlds you lost decades ago, but you people are still small fry. I find it funny when a clownfish actually thinks it's a shark now." Natasha said wistfully.

Coetzee's smile all but disappeared. "Let's get to the point. We are prepared to let you go; all I need is the datadisk, if you please."

"So after the Blakists, now you're holding us hostage too?"

"Enough of the games, Captain." Coetzee was clearly losing his patience. "We are pressed for time; the Whitting Conference on Tharkad is winding down and we have a limited window to get this HPG live feed to the delegates there. We have over a battalion of Death Commandos here including BattleMechs so do not test me; I need that datadisk now!"

"Since you sacrificed everyone to get it," Natasha said as she took out the datadisk from her jumpsuit pocket and then handed it to him. "It's only fair that you receive your just reward."

Almost immediately, a female ComStar technician ran over to them. Coetzee quickly handed the disk to her. "Cue it up and get it ready to play. Hurry up, we only have a few minutes!" He said as the technician took the disk and hurriedly dashed away towards the mobile HPG units near the soundstage.

"You must be proud of yourself." Natasha said. "Was this your brainchild?"

"Most of it was mine, yes." Coetzee's smile returned as he relished his success. "I actually thought the mission was a failure when we found out about the Blakist interception and that would have spelled the end of my career. Luckily, we had you to thank that it wasn't. You are now free to go, the waiting JumpShip still has a lithium-fusion battery charge and has been instructed to take you wherever you wish as soon as you dock with it."

"I'd like to ask you a favor before I leave." The Black Widow said.

Coetzee laughed. "Of course, as long as it is within my power. I owe you one, after all."

"I want to talk to your 'Dear Chancellor' before the HPG uplink is online."

"I'm afraid that's not possible, we are starting it up now and he will be live in a few minutes time." Coetzee said.

"I just need a minute… please."

Peter Coetzee whispered into his jacket's collar; it was obvious now that he had a microphone in his neck. After a few seconds, Coetzee's demeanor changed from pleasant to confused as he listened to the reply on his earpiece. "Our Chancellor has agreed to your request. You may go see him; he is in the tent. You will be escorted by a team of Death Commandos, of course."

"Of course." Natasha said as she started walking towards the tent while being flanked by four Death Commandos on either side.

Chancellor Sun-Tzu Liao sat in an ornate plush chair while several ladies in waiting applied more makeup to his pale face inside the air-conditioned tent. The supreme leader of the Capellan Confederation was immaculately dressed in flowing emerald green robes while a solid black Mandarin headpiece was fitted on the top of his head. He was in a very good mood for the Council Members allowed him to address them via live HPG just before they would adjourn for the final meeting of the conference. This was the chance to make his bid for ultimate power and he wanted to be well dressed for the occasion. The soft hum of the climate controllers made a slight adjustment as the tent flap was opened and the Black Widow was ushered in, flanked by four Death Commandos.

"Captain Kerensky, welcome." Sun-Tzu said without facing her as his servants kept applying the makeup. "I heard that you wished to see me. That is good for I wanted oh so much to meet this so-called 'new' Black Widow that everyone is talking about as well. It seems that whoever or whatever you may be, you are as equal as the original Widow herself in terms of innovation and sheer ability; only someone with a cold blood of a reptile and a burning heart of fire could have survived that ordeal you went through. I congratulate you, my generals are now referring to you as a WMD, a woman of mass destruction."

"And I congratulate you, Chancellor. Seems that your plan has worked to perfection. What will you do then when you are elected as permanent First Lord of the Star League?" Natasha said.

"To tell you the truth, I don't quite know yet." Sun-Tzu smiled. "But for you, whatever you desire, is yours. In fact, I would love to have you as one of my Death Commandos. If you ever decide that the SLDF Special Operations Command is not to your liking, there will be a place for you among my elite troops as long as you prove your loyalty to me."

Natasha was too tired to smile so she just smirked. "Thank you for the offer, Chancellor. But I just want a moment of your time."

"Then a moment is all you have," Sun-Tzu said. "I'll be on HPG in a few minutes."

"I just wanted to ask," Natasha said. "I did get you that datadisk, but a lot of people died in the process. I just wanted to know how you felt about it."

"Well, I would like to thank them too." Sun-Tzu continued to smile as one of his servants held up a mirror for him to see his face as he continued to preen himself. "The Star League appreciates their sacrifice. When I become First Lord, I shall have a memorial dedicated to them, it shall be encased in marble and granite and a nice little fountain to top it all off so that the little children can play around it."

"We found an archaeological team there too," Natasha said. "They were students and teachers- civilians who died helping us as well. They all fought to the last man and woman."

"Then it shall be a rather large memorial." Sun-Tzu giggled.

The tent's flap opened again and a ComStar technician peered in. "Chancellor, we will have live uplink in thirty seconds. We need you on the soundstage now."

"That is my cue," Sun-Tzu got up from his chair and started to leave the tent. "I'm sorry but destiny awaits. I do hope that we meet again, Black Widow. It was a pleasure teaming up with you."

As the Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation left the tent, Natasha soon followed him out but then abruptly changed direction and walked the other way as Sun-Tzu Liao made it on the soundstage and faced the podium. The ComStar technicians had extended their mobile units so that it linked directly with the HPG station several miles away and the entire setup was siphoning off huge amounts of energy for the live uplink that the surrounding countryside as well as the Liao summer palace was bathed in darkness, as the hyper-pulse machines took every ounce of energy that the planet's fusion powerplants had.

One of the ComStar technicians sitting behind a console held up five fingers on his right hand for Sun-Tzu to see. "Live HPG uplink in five… four… three… two… one…"

Sun-Tzu Liao smiled as he noticed the holovid camera lens pointed at him. The green light on the unit's front top indicated that he was now in a live broadcast across several star systems, including the uplink to the Whitting Conference in the Lyran capital world of Tharkad. At that moment he now realized that his lifelong dream of attaining ultimate power was at hand. All he had to do now was play the datadisk and let them decide.

"Greetings fellow Council Members," Sun-Tzu looked straight into the holovid camera and grinned. "You are all probably wondering why I had not decided to join you for this historic conference but I was rather busy with a number of important matters that could affect us all. To put it to you simply, my state intelligence service has stumbled upon a previously guarded secret that no one outside of a few select people in Terra ever knew about. I have in my possession a video from a legendary man, a man who has decided to bequeath to us all a revelation that will give new impetus to unity and peace. I believe that this evidence will signal a new beginning, a new direction for our beloved Star League."

With those words, Sun-Tzu immediately gestured the tech crew to play the video on the datadisk so that it would also be broadcast live. As the holovid began to play, the Chancellor of the Capellan Confederation couldn't help but feel exhilaration for the triumph was now his. He knew that every faction, including the Clans, the Great Houses of the Inner-Sphere and the Word of Blake would be watching and recording the revelation from their own uplinks, there was no stopping it now.

As the scene in the holographic video began to play, it showed a bloodstained bed and two naked people in the throes of sexual passion. Sun-Tzu's sister Kali Liao and the late Brandon St. Jamais showed every bit of their perverted sensuality in front of the camera's eye. The heaving close-ups of writhing flesh and the explicit noises were so overwhelming that several of the technicians either turned away in disgust or continued to stare at the holovid monitors, their mouths hanging wide open.

Sun-Tzu continued to keep a straight face, as he knew the camera continued to record him live. But it was obvious by now that his smile had disappeared as the holographic video continued to play. He had given explicit instructions to his men that they would let it play on regardless; just in case of any sabotage the entire video was already fed into the system and there was no way of stopping it until it ended. What the camera did not see was that several of Sun-Tzu's long nails had cracked after gripping the side of the wooden podium.

As confusion reigned while technicians started scrambling to find a way to shut down the broadcast, Natasha took out the datadisk that contained Jerome Blake's testament from her jumpsuit pocket and gripped it with both hands until it shattered. The Black Widow then let the tiny shards fall effortlessly from her hands as she walked back to the waiting DropShip.

THE END


End file.
